once. Do you see what I’m getting at, Miss Joan?”
“Well, yes,” said Joan. “You’re saying this would snap her out of it. But being a seamstress is like working in a beauty shop—you have to carry on a conversation. And Aunt Lou just isn’t capable right now.”
“Of
course
not,” said Mrs. Hall. “Why, she just don’t have the heart to do that. Will you
look
at you people?”
“I got the answer,” Mrs. Hall’s first hander called. “I don’t see why you are all worrying.” She kept on handing as she spoke, thrusting precisely neat bunches at Mrs. Hall with lightning speed. “It’s like when you’ve been sick,” she said. “They have to walk you around by the elbow a while. Well, Mrs. Pike needs to be walked around too, only in the talking sense. Joan here only works every other day; she can spare the time. She can greet the customers and tell them the news andall, so’s they won’t even notice how quiet Mrs. Pike is. Then by and by Mrs. Pike’ll start to get interested in what Joan is talking about. She’ll begin uncurling and saying a few words herself. That’s why she was such a favorite before, Mrs. Pike was; she could talk up a storm.”
Missouri was watching her with her mouth open. “Charleen,” she said, when Charleen had finished speaking, “you are just as silly as you look, Charleen. You must think Miss Joan is some kind of a walking newspaper. Do you? She don’t say two words in a day, Joan don’t. Customers would drop off like apples in the fall, and Mrs. Pike would have one more reason not to get a grip on things.”
“Silly yourself,” Charleen muttered, and bent closer over her pile of leaves.
“Mrs. Pike’s no worse than my sister Mary was,” said Mrs. Hall. “When Mary’s oldest died she sat on the porch seven days and seven nights and it rained on her. I thought she’d
mold
, before we got her in again. Mrs. Pike is at least talking some.”
“Not much,” Josephine said. She was scraping tobacco gum off her hands with a nail file while Mrs. Hall tied a knot at the end of her stick. “I went up to her at the burying and, ‘Mrs. Pike,’ I said. ‘I surely am sorry.’ And you know what she said? She said, ‘This is where Simon’s bedroom was going to be.’ I tell you, it scared me.”
“Well, they were going to build a house there,” Mrs. Hall said. She slammed another stick in the stand. “I say they should have put Janie Rose by the church, but that’s a individual matter.”
Missouri took off her straw hat and began fanningher face with it. “You can rest,” she told Joan and Lily. “We’re even now. Boy?”
“Yes’m.”
“Well, come on and get it.”
Joan and Lily leaned back against the table, half sitting on it, and Missouri tilted her head back so that she could fan her neck. “Sun’s about gone,” she said, “but still working. What was it I was thinking, now? Lily?”
“Well, I’m sure I don’t know,” Lily said.
“Hush. Wait, now—oh.” She stopped fanning herself, clamped her hat on her head again, and bent for another rod. “Stop that standing around,” she commanded. “Charleen, I take it back.”
“What?”
“What I said. I take it back. You only half silly.”
“Oh, why,
thank
you.”
“Only half as silly as you look. Stand up straight, Lily, you’re a mess. What’s that all over your hands?”
“It’s tobacco gum, what you think?”
“Oh.” She snapped off her length of twine, with Mrs. Hall watching closely, and reached for Joan’s leaves. “I’m a little vague, but I’m thinking,” she said. Then she frowned into space for a while. Finally she said, “Growing old surely do damage a person.”
“Well, is
that
what you’ve been getting ready to say?” Mrs. Hall asked irritably.
“
Oh
no,” Missouri said. “It was something entirely different. I was working up to something.”
“You were talking about Aunt Lou,” Joan reminded her.
“Well, I know I was. If you all would
“Well, yes,” said Joan. “You’re saying this would snap her out of it. But being a seamstress is like working in a beauty shop—you have to carry on a conversation. And Aunt Lou just isn’t capable right now.”
“Of
course
not,” said Mrs. Hall. “Why, she just don’t have the heart to do that. Will you
look
at you people?”
“I got the answer,” Mrs. Hall’s first hander called. “I don’t see why you are all worrying.” She kept on handing as she spoke, thrusting precisely neat bunches at Mrs. Hall with lightning speed. “It’s like when you’ve been sick,” she said. “They have to walk you around by the elbow a while. Well, Mrs. Pike needs to be walked around too, only in the talking sense. Joan here only works every other day; she can spare the time. She can greet the customers and tell them the news andall, so’s they won’t even notice how quiet Mrs. Pike is. Then by and by Mrs. Pike’ll start to get interested in what Joan is talking about. She’ll begin uncurling and saying a few words herself. That’s why she was such a favorite before, Mrs. Pike was; she could talk up a storm.”
Missouri was watching her with her mouth open. “Charleen,” she said, when Charleen had finished speaking, “you are just as silly as you look, Charleen. You must think Miss Joan is some kind of a walking newspaper. Do you? She don’t say two words in a day, Joan don’t. Customers would drop off like apples in the fall, and Mrs. Pike would have one more reason not to get a grip on things.”
“Silly yourself,” Charleen muttered, and bent closer over her pile of leaves.
“Mrs. Pike’s no worse than my sister Mary was,” said Mrs. Hall. “When Mary’s oldest died she sat on the porch seven days and seven nights and it rained on her. I thought she’d
mold
, before we got her in again. Mrs. Pike is at least talking some.”
“Not much,” Josephine said. She was scraping tobacco gum off her hands with a nail file while Mrs. Hall tied a knot at the end of her stick. “I went up to her at the burying and, ‘Mrs. Pike,’ I said. ‘I surely am sorry.’ And you know what she said? She said, ‘This is where Simon’s bedroom was going to be.’ I tell you, it scared me.”
“Well, they were going to build a house there,” Mrs. Hall said. She slammed another stick in the stand. “I say they should have put Janie Rose by the church, but that’s a individual matter.”
Missouri took off her straw hat and began fanningher face with it. “You can rest,” she told Joan and Lily. “We’re even now. Boy?”
“Yes’m.”
“Well, come on and get it.”
Joan and Lily leaned back against the table, half sitting on it, and Missouri tilted her head back so that she could fan her neck. “Sun’s about gone,” she said, “but still working. What was it I was thinking, now? Lily?”
“Well, I’m sure I don’t know,” Lily said.
“Hush. Wait, now—oh.” She stopped fanning herself, clamped her hat on her head again, and bent for another rod. “Stop that standing around,” she commanded. “Charleen, I take it back.”
“What?”
“What I said. I take it back. You only half silly.”
“Oh, why,
thank
you.”
“Only half as silly as you look. Stand up straight, Lily, you’re a mess. What’s that all over your hands?”
“It’s tobacco gum, what you think?”
“Oh.” She snapped off her length of twine, with Mrs. Hall watching closely, and reached for Joan’s leaves. “I’m a little vague, but I’m thinking,” she said. Then she frowned into space for a while. Finally she said, “Growing old surely do damage a person.”
“Well, is
that
what you’ve been getting ready to say?” Mrs. Hall asked irritably.
“
Oh
no,” Missouri said. “It was something entirely different. I was working up to something.”
“You were talking about Aunt Lou,” Joan reminded her.
“Well, I know I was. If you all would
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