The Mulberry Bush by Helen Topping Miller Page B

We’ve invaded Europe, but now she has her eye on Africa—the Nile and the South Seas.”
    â€œI’ve never seen anything,” sighed Sally Gamble, “and now I’m too old and stiff to venture. So I sit by my fire and toast my swollen joints and let people who write show me the places I was too timid in my youth to explore for myself. And I raised two children who are as much vegetables as I was.”
    â€œBut—I thought you liked staying at home, Mother?” Bruce said.
    â€œI do like staying at home. A good thing, now, since I can’t go down three steps without grunts of misery. But if I were young again—like you,” she turned her bright gaze upon Virginia, “I’d marry a rover and see the world!”
    Almost Virginia laughed aloud. Almost she cried out, “But I did marry a rover—and here am I, and he goes roving.” But she caught herself in time and said something polite instead, something about Mrs. Gamble’s ideas fitting in beautifully with Teresa’s business, while Bruce filled his pipe and blew smoke into the fire and said nothing at all.
    Julius, the old servant, brought wine, in priceless little shoe-peg glasses, on a silver tray, and hard biscuits that Virginia tried to bite without much success.
    â€œDon’t do that—dip them like this.” Sally Gamble snapped a biscuit and soaked half of it in her wine. “Easy to see you weren’t born in Maryland. Where were you born, anyway? You talk like a southerner.”
    â€œIn Tennessee.” Virginia soaked her biscuit obediently, thinking that they were tasteless things anyway and why bother? But the wine was very good.
    â€œI make it myself,” said the little old lady. “It’s elderberry—and I use a big crock with a plate over it and a brick on top of that. Keep out the gnats—that’s the important thing. What’s Avis doing—playing the piano?”
    â€œShe did play for us. She plays beautifully.”
    â€œShe could have toured Europe in concert—and she married a college professor.” Mrs. Gamble bit a biscuit almost viciously. “And now—if Bruce would only stir himself and get another wife, she’d like to marry a fellow who works in a bank—who’ll put her in a brick house with a car to drive and nothing to do but go to luncheons and play bridge and let her brain dry-rot forever!”
    â€œOh, but look here, Mother,” Bruce protested, “I’m not interfering with Avis’s life. She hasn’t made up her mind about Dan Thomas, anyway. And do you have to marry me off so precipitately?”
    â€œYou’re no earthly good the way you are,” snapped his mother, setting her glass down with a clink. But she gave Virginia an impish, wise smile, and Virginia felt her prickling uneasiness returning again.
    The feeling of being on guard increased when they had said goodbye to Mrs. Gamble and started back through the damp orchard and the grove where already blue shadows of dusk were beginning to gather. Bruce held her arm to help her over rough places and then he slowed suddenly, and Virginia felt the clasp of his fingers tighten.
    â€œMy mother,” he said suddenly, “likes being outrageous now and then. But aside from that she’s a very wise woman.”
    â€œShe’s a love,” said Virginia, maintaining a casual air. “I wish I had known her when she was younger.”
    â€œShe’s a clever woman—because she sees that I’m in love with you,” Bruce went on, standing still now, keeping his hold on her arm. “I wonder if you’ve seen it, too?”
    â€œOh—but, please, Bruce—I can’t— Can’t we, be friends?” she asked unhappily.
    â€œDo you want me for a friend?” he countered, his brown face set, his lips very straight.
    â€œI do want you, Bruce. This has been such a nice day—knowing