However, they were only too well prepared with their
annihilating response.
“Oh, say not so! Florence, say not so!
Florence! Say not so!”
They even sent this same odious refrain back to her
from the street, as they departed with their lovely
companion; and, so tenuous is feminine loyalty sometimes,
under these stresses, Miss Fairchild mingled her sweet,
tantalizing young soprano with their changing and cackling
falsetto.
“Say not so, Florence! Oh, say not so!
Say not so!”
They went satirically down the street, their chumminess
with one another bountifully increased by their common
derision of the outsider on the porch; and even at
a distance they still contrived to make themselves
intolerable; looking back over their shoulders, at
intervals, with say-not-so expressions on their faces.
Even when these faces were far enough away to be but
yellowish oval planes, their say-not-so expressions
were still bitingly eloquent.
Now a northern breeze chilled the air, as the hateful
three became indistinguishable in the haze of autumn
dusk, whereupon Florence stopped swinging her foot,
left the railing, and went morosely into the house.
And here it was her fortune to make two discoveries
vital to her present career; the first arising out
of a conversation between her father and mother in
the library, where a gossipy fire of soft coal encouraged
this proper Sunday afternoon entertainment for man
and wife.
“Sit down and rest, Florence,” said her
mother. “I’m afraid you play too
hard when Patty and the boys are here. Do sit
down quietly and rest yourself a little while.”
And as Florence obeyed, Mrs. Atwater turned to her
husband, resuming: “Well, that’s what
I said. I told Aunt Carrie I thought the
same way about it that you did. Of course
nobody ever knows what Julia’s going
to do next, and nobody needs to be surprised at anything
she does do. Ever since she came home from school,
about four-fifths of all the young men in town have
been wild about her—and so’s every
old bachelor, for the matter of that!”
“Yes,” Mr. Atwater added. “And
every old widower, too.”
His wife warmly accepted the amendment. “And
every old widower, too,” she said, nodding.
“Rather! And of course Julia’s just
done exactly as she pleased about everything, and
naturally she’s going to do as she pleases about
this.”
“Well, of course it’s her own affair,
Mollie,” Mr. Atwater said mildly. “She
couldn’t be expected to consult the whole Atwater
family connection before she——”
“Oh, no,” she agreed. “I don’t
say she could. Still, it is rather upsetting,
coming so suddenly like this, when not one of the family
has ever seen him—never even heard his
very name before.”
[Illustration: "‘Well, men ...
I don’t want to see any loafin’ around
here, men. I expect I’ll have a pretty good
newspaper this week.’"]
