point, and
Edith had to start, Mrs. Twist had difficulty in maintaining her
usual brightness.
Edith would be a whole day away, and perhaps a night if the
St. Luke
got in late, for Clark is five hours' train
journey from New York, and during all that time Mrs. Twist would be
uncared for. She thought Edith surprisingly thoughtless to be so
much pleased to go. She examined her flat and sinewy form with
disapproval when she came in hatted and booted to say good-bye. No
wonder nobody married Edith. And the money wouldn't help her
either now--she was too old. She had missed her chances, poor
thing.
Mrs. Twist forgot the young man there had been once, years
before, when Edward was still in the school room, who had almost
married Edith. He was a lusty and enterprising young man, who had
come to Clark to stay with a neighbour, and he had had nothing to
do through a long vacation, and had taken to dropping in at all
hours and interrupting Edith in her housekeeping; and Edith, even
then completely flat but of a healthy young uprightness and bright
of eyes and hair, had gone silly and forgotten how to cook, and had
given her mother, who surely had enough sorrows already, an attack
of indigestion.
Mrs. Twist, however, had headed the young man off. Edith was too
necessary to her at that time. She could not possibly lose Edith.
And besides, the only way to avoid being a widow is not to marry.
She told herself that she could not bear the thought of poor
Edith's running the risk of an affliction similar to her own.
If one hasn't a husband one cannot lose him, Mrs. Twist clearly
saw. If Edith married she would certainly lose him unless he lost
her. Marriage had only two solutions, she explained to her silent
daughter,--she would not, of course, discuss with her that third
one which America has so often flown to for solace and
relief,--only two, said Mrs. Twist, and they were that either one
died oneself, which wasn't exactly a happy thing, or the other
one did. It was only a question of time before one of the married
was left alone to mourn. Marriage began rosily no doubt, but it
always ended black. "And think of my having to see you like
this
" she said, with a gesture indicating her sad
dress.
Edith was intimidated; and the young man presently went away
whistling. He was the only one. Mrs. Twist had no more trouble. He
passed entirely from her mind; and as she looked at Edith dressed
for going to meet Edward in the clothes she went to church in on
Sundays, she unconsciously felt a faint contempt for a woman who
had had so much time to get married in and yet had never achieved
it. She herself had been married at twenty; and her hair even now,
after all she had gone through, was hardly more gray than
Edith's.
"Your hat's crooked," she said, when Edith
straightened herself after bending down to kiss her good-bye; and
then, after all unable to bear the idea of being left alone while
Edith, with that pleased face, went off to New York to see Edward
before she did, she asked her, if she still had a minute to spare,
to help her to the sofa, because she felt faint.
"I expect the excitement has been too much for me,"
she murmured, lying down and shutting her eyes; and Edith,
disciplined in affection and attentiveness, immediately took off
her hat and settled down to getting her mother well again in time
for Edward.
Which is why nobody met Mr. Twist on his arrival in New York,
and he accordingly did things, as will be seen, which he
mightn't otherwise have done.
CHAPTER IX
When the
St. Luke
was so near its journey's end that people
were packing up, and the word Nantucket was frequent in the scraps
of talk the twins heard, they woke up from the unworried condition
of mind Mr. Twist's kindness and the dreamy monotony of the
days had produced in them, and began to consider their prospects
with more attention. This attention soon resulted in anxiety.
Anna-Rose showed hers by being irritable. Anna-Felicitas didn't
show hers at all.
It was all very
Edith had to start, Mrs. Twist had difficulty in maintaining her
usual brightness.
Edith would be a whole day away, and perhaps a night if the
St. Luke
got in late, for Clark is five hours' train
journey from New York, and during all that time Mrs. Twist would be
uncared for. She thought Edith surprisingly thoughtless to be so
much pleased to go. She examined her flat and sinewy form with
disapproval when she came in hatted and booted to say good-bye. No
wonder nobody married Edith. And the money wouldn't help her
either now--she was too old. She had missed her chances, poor
thing.
Mrs. Twist forgot the young man there had been once, years
before, when Edward was still in the school room, who had almost
married Edith. He was a lusty and enterprising young man, who had
come to Clark to stay with a neighbour, and he had had nothing to
do through a long vacation, and had taken to dropping in at all
hours and interrupting Edith in her housekeeping; and Edith, even
then completely flat but of a healthy young uprightness and bright
of eyes and hair, had gone silly and forgotten how to cook, and had
given her mother, who surely had enough sorrows already, an attack
of indigestion.
Mrs. Twist, however, had headed the young man off. Edith was too
necessary to her at that time. She could not possibly lose Edith.
And besides, the only way to avoid being a widow is not to marry.
She told herself that she could not bear the thought of poor
Edith's running the risk of an affliction similar to her own.
If one hasn't a husband one cannot lose him, Mrs. Twist clearly
saw. If Edith married she would certainly lose him unless he lost
her. Marriage had only two solutions, she explained to her silent
daughter,--she would not, of course, discuss with her that third
one which America has so often flown to for solace and
relief,--only two, said Mrs. Twist, and they were that either one
died oneself, which wasn't exactly a happy thing, or the other
one did. It was only a question of time before one of the married
was left alone to mourn. Marriage began rosily no doubt, but it
always ended black. "And think of my having to see you like
this
" she said, with a gesture indicating her sad
dress.
Edith was intimidated; and the young man presently went away
whistling. He was the only one. Mrs. Twist had no more trouble. He
passed entirely from her mind; and as she looked at Edith dressed
for going to meet Edward in the clothes she went to church in on
Sundays, she unconsciously felt a faint contempt for a woman who
had had so much time to get married in and yet had never achieved
it. She herself had been married at twenty; and her hair even now,
after all she had gone through, was hardly more gray than
Edith's.
"Your hat's crooked," she said, when Edith
straightened herself after bending down to kiss her good-bye; and
then, after all unable to bear the idea of being left alone while
Edith, with that pleased face, went off to New York to see Edward
before she did, she asked her, if she still had a minute to spare,
to help her to the sofa, because she felt faint.
"I expect the excitement has been too much for me,"
she murmured, lying down and shutting her eyes; and Edith,
disciplined in affection and attentiveness, immediately took off
her hat and settled down to getting her mother well again in time
for Edward.
Which is why nobody met Mr. Twist on his arrival in New York,
and he accordingly did things, as will be seen, which he
mightn't otherwise have done.
CHAPTER IX
When the
St. Luke
was so near its journey's end that people
were packing up, and the word Nantucket was frequent in the scraps
of talk the twins heard, they woke up from the unworried condition
of mind Mr. Twist's kindness and the dreamy monotony of the
days had produced in them, and began to consider their prospects
with more attention. This attention soon resulted in anxiety.
Anna-Rose showed hers by being irritable. Anna-Felicitas didn't
show hers at all.
It was all very
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