There it is again! I'm not old enough. When _will_ I be allowed to
take my proper place in life? Echo answers when.
Well, to resume and go on.
What was I talking about? Oh, I know--the prospective suitors. (Aunt
Hattie can't hear me when I just _write_ it, anyway.) Well, they all
come just as they used to, only there are more of them now--two fat
men, one slim one, and a man with a halo of hair round a bald spot.
Oh, I don't mean that any of them are really suitors yet. They just
come to call and to tea, and send her flowers and candy. And Mother
isn't a mite nicer to one than she is to any of the others. Anybody
can see that. And she shows very plainly she's no notion of picking
anybody out yet. But of course I can't help being interested and
watching.
It won't be Mr. Harlow, anyway. I'm pretty sure of that, even if he
has started in to get his divorce. (And he has. I heard Aunt Hattie
tell Mother so last week.) But Mother doesn't like him. I'm sure she
doesn't. He makes her awfully nervous. Oh, she laughs and talks with
him--seems as if she laughs even more with him than she does with
anybody else. But she's always looking around for somebody else to
talk to; and I've seen her get up and move off just as he was coming
across the room toward her, and I'm just sure she saw him.
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