else! Not another stitch. Why, even one of her—part of her bosom was exposed. She stared at the girl, reprovingly, and the girl’s black maliciously sparkling eyes met hers unflinchingly.
She was a tall, well-built girl with a daring coiffure which allowed a black curling fringe of bangs across her forehead. Now, as she coolly looked at Myrtle, an unpleasant smile curving her red lips, she drew the robe more tightly around her and gave the bangs a bored pat.
“Well?” she said.
“Why—why, I was just passing by, Bella.…”
“Yes?”
“Well—well, I hadn’t seen you in such a long time, I thought I’d just stop in and see how you were.”
“I’m all right,” said Bella. “I’ve been lying down.”
“Oh. Well, I hope you haven’t been ill.”
“No. But I’m going to lie down again.”
“Well…well, if you’re lying down, you must be ill.”
“Not necessarily,” said Bella, and a secret amusement grew in the malicious depths of her eyes. “Is that the only time you lie down?”
Myrtle reddened. She stammered idiotic meaningless things. She heard herself asking if she could borrow a cup of tea, though goodness knew tea was the one thing she and Alfred always had plenty of.
Bella shrugged a curt assent.
“Just a moment,” she said, and she started to close the door. But even she was not equal to that rudeness. She left it open its original few inches, and disappeared.
Trembling with mortification, Mrs. Courtland waited.
She had forgotten, in her inherent timidity and self-doubt, what she should think of Bella. She could think only of what Bella must think of her. Perhaps she had looked into the house one day and seen her in bed with her clothes on. That was what she must have meant by that lying down business.
Perhaps she would say something to her father about it, and he would say something to Alfred. Maybe he had already done it! Alfred would never mention it, he was so reserved, but he would be terribly hurt.
She was almost ready to cry. Poor Alfred! He was so good to her and she had shamed him.
A gust of wind banged the door back against the wall, bringing her out of her reverie. Without thinking, she reached inside to close it. She had no desire to pry—well, she had, but that was not why she did it. Coal was expensive and it was hard to keep a house warm at best. Anyone else would have done the same thing.
With her head inside the door, of course, she was human enough to look around the room.
And so she saw Grant, lying on the lounge, quite nude.
He cursed her, trying to pull a pillow over himself, and in the kitchen Bella dropped the cup of tea and came rushing in. She grabbed the little bank clerk’s wife by the shoulders and began shaking her, warning her of revenge upon her husband if she told. And while his sister’s hair was tumbled over her face by his sweetheart’s fury, Grant, over his first shock, mumbled feeble protests.
“She won’t tell, Bella. Myrtle isn’t like that.”
“You’ll just bet she won’t!” snapped Bella, releasing her victim. And with a scornful laugh she shoved her out the door.
Myrtle walked home, across lots, weeping, frightened, sick. For once, she was glad to crawl in bed.
10
T he Nordic peoples, particularly the Germans, were among the best liked and most respected in the valley. Colonials by heritage, they knew how to adapt themselves to new places, how to fit in. But, most important of all, they had not come to the land empty-handed; they had not been driven from their native soil, but had come willingly. The best of an ambitious people, they had come to America, admittedly, because their own country afforded them insufficient opportunities. A proud and industrious people, they came with full pockets, ready and willing to buy what was needed, generous to a fault.
Briefly, they were the antithesis of the hunkies and Rooshans. And they looked down on these latter from an even more lofty pinnacle than did the native
She was a tall, well-built girl with a daring coiffure which allowed a black curling fringe of bangs across her forehead. Now, as she coolly looked at Myrtle, an unpleasant smile curving her red lips, she drew the robe more tightly around her and gave the bangs a bored pat.
“Well?” she said.
“Why—why, I was just passing by, Bella.…”
“Yes?”
“Well—well, I hadn’t seen you in such a long time, I thought I’d just stop in and see how you were.”
“I’m all right,” said Bella. “I’ve been lying down.”
“Oh. Well, I hope you haven’t been ill.”
“No. But I’m going to lie down again.”
“Well…well, if you’re lying down, you must be ill.”
“Not necessarily,” said Bella, and a secret amusement grew in the malicious depths of her eyes. “Is that the only time you lie down?”
Myrtle reddened. She stammered idiotic meaningless things. She heard herself asking if she could borrow a cup of tea, though goodness knew tea was the one thing she and Alfred always had plenty of.
Bella shrugged a curt assent.
“Just a moment,” she said, and she started to close the door. But even she was not equal to that rudeness. She left it open its original few inches, and disappeared.
Trembling with mortification, Mrs. Courtland waited.
She had forgotten, in her inherent timidity and self-doubt, what she should think of Bella. She could think only of what Bella must think of her. Perhaps she had looked into the house one day and seen her in bed with her clothes on. That was what she must have meant by that lying down business.
Perhaps she would say something to her father about it, and he would say something to Alfred. Maybe he had already done it! Alfred would never mention it, he was so reserved, but he would be terribly hurt.
She was almost ready to cry. Poor Alfred! He was so good to her and she had shamed him.
A gust of wind banged the door back against the wall, bringing her out of her reverie. Without thinking, she reached inside to close it. She had no desire to pry—well, she had, but that was not why she did it. Coal was expensive and it was hard to keep a house warm at best. Anyone else would have done the same thing.
With her head inside the door, of course, she was human enough to look around the room.
And so she saw Grant, lying on the lounge, quite nude.
He cursed her, trying to pull a pillow over himself, and in the kitchen Bella dropped the cup of tea and came rushing in. She grabbed the little bank clerk’s wife by the shoulders and began shaking her, warning her of revenge upon her husband if she told. And while his sister’s hair was tumbled over her face by his sweetheart’s fury, Grant, over his first shock, mumbled feeble protests.
“She won’t tell, Bella. Myrtle isn’t like that.”
“You’ll just bet she won’t!” snapped Bella, releasing her victim. And with a scornful laugh she shoved her out the door.
Myrtle walked home, across lots, weeping, frightened, sick. For once, she was glad to crawl in bed.
10
T he Nordic peoples, particularly the Germans, were among the best liked and most respected in the valley. Colonials by heritage, they knew how to adapt themselves to new places, how to fit in. But, most important of all, they had not come to the land empty-handed; they had not been driven from their native soil, but had come willingly. The best of an ambitious people, they had come to America, admittedly, because their own country afforded them insufficient opportunities. A proud and industrious people, they came with full pockets, ready and willing to buy what was needed, generous to a fault.
Briefly, they were the antithesis of the hunkies and Rooshans. And they looked down on these latter from an even more lofty pinnacle than did the native
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