Christian fiction; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Nineteen twenties -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
“Well, I can’t be sure about it yet. I suppose she did, but it’s just
as well to know where we stand exactly before we make any offensive
moves. You know mother said something that last night about Joyce
always having a right to stay here, that it was her home. I didn’t
think much of it at the time of course, and told her we would consider
it our duty to look out for Joyce till she got married of course, but
I’ve been thinking since, you can’t just tell, mother might have been
trying to prepare me for some surprise the will is going to spring on
us. You know mother had an overdeveloped conscience, and there was
something about a trifling sum of money that Joyce’s father left that
mother put into this house to make a small payment I think. I can’t
just remember what it was but that would be just enough to make mother
think she ought to give everything she owned to Joyce. I sha’n’t be
surprised at almost anything after the way she made a fool of that
girl. But anyhow, you let her alone till she gets good and ready to
come in. She won’t dare stay out all night.”
“She might go to the neighbors and make a lot of talk about us,”
suggested Nan, “She knows she’d have us in a hole if she did that.”
“She wouldn’t go to the neighbors, not if I know her at all. She
wouldn’t think it was right. She has that kind of a conscience too.
It’s lucky for us.”
“Well, suppose she doesn’t come in and wash the dishes tonight?”
“Let ’em go then till tomorrow. You’ve got dishes enough for breakfast
haven’t you? Well, just leave everything where it is. Don’t even clear
off the table. Just let her see that she’ll have it all to do when she
gets over her tantrums, and you won’t find her cutting up again very
soon.”
“I suppose she’ll have to come back tonight,” speculated Nan. “She has
another examination tomorrow morning I think, and it would take an
earthquake or something like that to keep her away from that.”
“Well, we’ll order an earthquake then. I don’t mean to have her
finish that examination. If she happens to pass--and she likely
would for those Radways have brains they say, that’s the trouble with
them--she’ll make us all kinds of trouble wanting to teach instead of
doing the work for you, and then we’d be up against it right away.
It costs like the dickens to get a servant these days and there’s no
sense in having an outsider around stealing your food and wearing your
clothes. Don’t you worry about Joyce. Let her alone till she comes in.
Lock the kitchen door so she’ll have to knock. Then I’ll let her in
and give her such a dressing down as she’ll remember for a few years.
Come on. Let’s turn out this diningroom light and go into the living
room. Then she’ll know we’re not going to wash those dishes, and she’ll
come in all the sooner.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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