She held her head high as she faced her aunt.
"I don't want any more talk about it, Aunt Hannah," said she.
"Hey?"
"I don't want any more talk about it."
"Well, I guess you'll have more talk about it; girls don't get jilted
without there is talk generally. I guess you'll have to make up your
mind to it, for all you put on such airs with your own aunt, who left
her washin' an' come over here to take your part. I guess when you
stand out in the road half an hour an' call a young man to come back,
an' he don't come, that folks are goin' to talk some. Who's that
comin' now?"
"It's Cephas," whispered Mrs. Barnard, with a scared glance at
Charlotte.
Cephas Barnard entered abruptly, and stood for a second looking at
the company, while they looked back at him. His eyes were stolidly
defiant, but he stood well back, and almost shrank against the door.
There seemed to be impulses in Hannah's and Sylvia's faces
confronting his.
He turned to his wife. "When you comin' home?" said he.
"Oh, Cephas! I jest ran over here a minute. I--wanted to
see--if--Sylvy had any emptins. Do you want me an' Charlotte to come
now?"
Cephas turned on his heel. "I think it's about time for you both to
be home," he grunted.
Sarah Barnard arose and looked with piteous appeal at Charlotte.
Charlotte hesitated a second, then she arose without a word, and
followed her mother, who followed Cephas.
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