But I mean another man
specially. His name is Harlow. He's a little man with a brown pointed
beard and big soft brown eyes. He's really awfully good-looking, too.
I don't know what he does do; but he's married. I know that. He never
brings his wife, though; but Mother's always asking for her, clear and
distinct, and she always smiles, and her voice kind of tinkles like
little silver bells. But just the same he never brings her.
He never takes her anywhere. I heard Aunt Hattie tell Mother so at the
very first, when he came. She said they weren't a bit happy together,
and that there'd probably be a divorce before long. But Mother asked
for her just the same the very next time. And she's done it ever
since.
I think I know now why she does. I found out, and I was simply
thrilled. It was so exciting! You see, they were lovers once
themselves--Mother and this Mr. Harlow. Then something happened and
they quarreled. That was just before Father came.
Of course Mother didn't tell me this, nor Aunt Hattie. It was two
ladies. I heard them talking at a tea one day. I was right behind
them, and I couldn't get away, so I just couldn't help hearing what
they said.
They were looking across the room at Mother. Mr. Harlow was talking to
her.
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