My aunt made one more argument. "What makes you get married to any of
'em, Deolda?"
Now Deolda looked at her with a queer look; then she gave a queer laugh
like a short bark.
"I can't stay here forever. I'm not going back to the mill."
Then my aunt surprised me by throwing her arms around Deolda and kissing
her and calling her "my poor lamb," while Deolda leaned up against my
aunt as if she were her own little girl and snuggled up in a way that
would break your heart.
One afternoon soon after old Conboy brought Deolda home before tea time,
and as she jumped out:
"Oh, all right!" he called after her. "Have your own way; I'll marry you
if you want me to!"
She made him pay for this. "You see," she said to my aunt, "I told you I
was going to marry him."
"Well, then come out motoring tonight when you've got your dishes done,"
called old Conboy.
"I'm going to the breakwater with Johnny Deutra tonight," said Deolda,
in that awful truthful way of hers.
"You see what you get," said my aunt, "if you marry that girl."
"I'll get worse not marrying her," said Conboy. "I may die any minute;
I've a high blood pressure, and maybe a stroke will carry me off any
day. But I've never wanted anything in many years as I want to hold
Deolda in my arms.
Pages:
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623