“Oh!” said ’Manda Grier, turning
her face away again; she turned it so far away that
the back of her head was all that Lemuel could see.
“I guess you better speak to Statira about that.”
By this time they had reached the door of the boarding-house,
and ’Manda Grier let herself in with her latch-key.
“Won’t you walk in, Mr. Barker?”
she said in formal tones of invitation.
“Is she well enough to see—company?”
murmured Lemuel. “I shouldn’t want
to disturb her.”
“I don’t believe but what she can see
you,” said ’Manda Grier, for the first
time relentingly.
“All right,” said Lemuel, gulping the
lump in his throat, and he followed ’Manda Grier
up the flights of stairs to the door of the girls’
room, which she flung open without knocking.
“S’tira,” she said, “here’s
Mr. Barker,” and Lemuel, from the dark landing,
where he lurked a moment, could see Statira sitting
in the rocking-chair in a pretty blue dressing-gown;
after a first flush she looked pale, and now and then
put up her hand to hide a hoarse little cough.
“Walk right in, Mr. Barker,” cried ’Manda
Grier, and Lemuel entered, more awkward and sheepish
in his new suit from the Misfit Parlours than he had
been before in his Willoughby Pastures best clothes.
Statira merely said, “Why, Mr. Barker!”
and stood at her chair where she rose. “You’re
quite a stranger. Won’t you sit down?”
Lemuel sat down, and ’Manda Grier said politely,
“Won’t you let me take your hat, Mr. Barker?”
and they both treated him with so much ceremony and
deference that it seemed impossible he could ever have
done such a monstrous thing as kiss a young lady like
Miss Dudley; and he felt that he never could approach
the subject even to accept a just doom at her hands.
They all talked about the weather for a minute, and
then ’Manda Grier said, “Well, I guess
I shall have to go down and set this boneset to steep;”
and as he rose, and stood to let her pass, she caught
his arm, and gave it a clutch. He did not know
whether she did it on purpose, or why she did it,
but somehow it said to him that she was his friend,
and he did not feel so much afraid.
When she was gone, however, he returned to the weather
for conversation; but when Statira said it was lucky
for her that the winter held off so, he made out to
inquire about her sickness, and she told him that
she had caught a heavy cold; at first it seemed just
to be a head-cold, but afterwards it seemed to settle
on the lungs, and it seemed as if she never could
throw it off; they had had the doctor twice; but now
she was better, and the cough was nearly all
gone.
“I guess I took the cold that day, from havin’
the window open,” she concluded; and she passed
her hand across her lap, and looked down demurely,
and then up at the ceiling, and her head twitched a
little and trembled.
