Other People's Business: The Romantic Career of the Practical Miss DaleSmith, Harriet L. (Harriet Lummis)
General
Other People's Business: The Romantic Career of the Practical Miss Dale
Smith, Harriet L. (Harriet Lummis)
Fiction
"Well, I must be going." Suiting the action to the words, Persis rose.
"Send for me any time, Charlotte. Ever since I heard about your state
of health, I've felt drawn to you, same as if you were a sister. Mind,
I'll drop my sewing and everything any time you want me. And as for
Nelson's future, don't you give yourself an anxious thought about that."
"Good-by," said Mrs. Richard's faintly, and closed her eyes. And with
a commiserative glance in which lurked a spice of humor, Persis
withdrew. At the door she encountered Nelson Richards hurrying home
early from his work to spend as much time as possible with his wife.
Anxiety had left its signature on Nelson's jovial face. He walked with
dragging step and drooping shoulders, apprehension counterfeiting age.
But at the sight of Persis he roused himself from his customary
abstraction.
"Hello, Persis. Well, I declare you're a sight for sore eyes." He
regarded her with frank admiration, an unconscious tribute to the
effectiveness of the gray crepe. "Looks like you was renewing your
youth," he continued with heavy gallantry. "Ain't seen you look so
handsome since you was sixteen."
Persis had not invented the episode of Nelson's boyish admiration. In
all important details she had held rigidly to the truth, though it is
doubtful whether those innocent, sexless kisses at the gate had been
recalled in the past dozen years by either party to the transaction.
But it was true that Nelson Richards had always had a warm spot in his
affections for his first sweetheart, and the cordiality of his greeting
was by no means perfunctory.
Persis smiled upon him kindly.
"Thank you, Nelson. Wish I could say as much for you, but to tell the
truth, you look to me a little peaked."
"Well, I have felt better." He lowered his big voice discreetly.
"Fact is I'm worried pretty near to death over Charlotte. What do you
think about her, Persis? Doctor says he don't find nothing out of
shape with her organs. Looks as if she'd ought to pick up, don't it?"
He swallowed hard as he put the question, his eyes eloquent with dumb
misery, and Persis laid a friendly hand upon his arm as she answered
with reassuring certainty: "Don't you worry, Nelson. I feel it in my
bones that Charlotte's going to be better before long."
"I'd as soon take your say-so as any doctor's." The big man looked at
her gratefully. "Come in as often as you can, Persis. There ain't
nobody we'd rather see."
He tramped into the house, armed in his splendid masculine obtuseness,
stooped to kiss his wife's hot cheek, and said, as was inevitable, the
last thing he should have thought of saying.
"Saw Persis Dale out here just now, and I'll be darned if she ain't
getting better looking every day."
"I can't see that that's enough to excuse profanity," said Mrs.
Richards witheringly. "Persis Dale is a coarse scheming creature."
Then as her husband burst into astonished protests, she showed signs of
hysteria.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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