Blue Ruin (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill
I should say it wasn’t your place, at least, Justine!” replied Amelia witheringly. “Dana has a mind of his own, and I’m sure he has more education than all of us put together. Besides, you’re talking in a very strange way about the girl he is engaged to. Why shouldn’t he want to do what she wants, I should like to know?”
“Oh! So they’re engaged, are they? That’s the first time you ever admitted that! You’ve always said it was only a boy and girl friendship. I thought you’d find out someday to your bitter sorrow! So he’s confided in you at last has he? Well, I’m glad we know where we stand, at least.”
“Really!” said Amelia, flashing angry by this time. “No, he hasn’t confided in me! But I’ve got eyes in my head if you haven’t. But what business is it of yours I should like to know? What difference does it make where you stand? You’re standing right here in Mother Whipple’s kitchen, where you’ve been standing for the last fifteen years if I haven’t missed count, and it doesn’t behoove you to stick your nose into the business of any other members of the family that I see. I didn’t know you had any doubts about where you’ve stood, all these years, or I’d have tried to enlighten you. Besides, I don’t quite understand what you mean by bitter sorrow. You didn’t suppose I had any objection to Lynette Brooke did you? I’d have made it manifest long ago if I had. There isn’t a finer family in this country than the Brookes, and as for the Rutherfords, they belong to the cream of the land! Old Mrs. Rutherford was one of the first members of the DAR in this state, and I’ve heard say that her husband owned”
But Justine had turned away from the window with a disinterested finality and a sigh of amazing proportions.
“Oh, well,” she dismissed the subject, “if you’re satisfied, of course there’s nothing more to say. But she isn’t the girl I’d choose for a daughter-in-law!”
“It isn’t in the least likely you’ll ever have a chance to choose one,” fired forth Amelia with a flame in her cheek and battle in her eye. “I scarcely think she’d choose your son if you had one,” she ended with withering scorn.
Grandmother Whipple sat back and took up her knitting, laughing out a dry cackle from her grim old lips. She dearly loved a fight between these two. It was the only amusement she had since she was a prisoner in her chair.
Justine sniffed in token that she felt Amelia had been cruel in her insinuations and started back to her work of arranging the guest room for the expected arrivals that afternoon.
“Well, you can say what you please,” she said, putting her head back in the door from the back stairway for a parting shot. “I think Dana would have shown a far better spirit if he had remained at home, this morning at least, and helped me put up the clean curtains and tack up the pictures instead of philandering off with a girl when there was work to be done. If he is going to be a minister of the Gospel he ought to begin to remember that charity begins at home.”
“I don’t see that he has any call to put up curtains and pictures for your guests,” answered his mother furiously. “They’re your guests, aren’t they, not mine? Not his? Not even Mother Whipple’s? There wasn’t any call to take down those curtains and launder them anyway. They’ve only been up three weeks. They were plenty good enough, and if you had to be silly about them you don’t need to make Dana pay for your foolishness. As for pictures, what’s the matter with the pictures that belong in that room? We never had to put up pictures when the Whipples came to visit. We don’t change the decorations for the delegates to the Missionary Conference do we? We didn’t even have to houseclean when the minister delegates came to presbytery. You can’t get anybody much better! If the house isn’t good enough for them I wonder you had them come!”
“They’re used to having things nice,” said Justine severely.
“Well, so are we. So are all our guests! You don’t seem to realize what you imply. If these friends of yours are so grand they’d better pick out some other summer resort to spend their summer in and not come bothering around here. I wonder you didn’t entertain them at the grand new hotel. You’ve got property, you know, and could afford it.”
“I was told my friends would be quite welcome,” said Justine with a premonitory sniff. “I was led to suppose that they would be made comfortable and welcome. If they’re going to be such a burden I’d better go and telegraph to them not to come!”
Justine’s eyes were like cold chisels behind her straight lashes. Her mouth was hard and straight with fury.
“There’s welcomes and welcomes,” said Amelia Whipple with a snap. “I have to do the most of the work. I understand your friends were hard up for a home this summer like some of the rest of us around here, but if they have to be so everlasting particular about their decorations even, why don’t they hunt for other accommodations? Nobody’ll be hurt if they do.”
“Very well!” said Justine in cold fury. “I’ll go right down and telegraph the train for them not to get off.” She flung off her sweeping cap and began to take down her crimping pins, tears of displeasure and disappointment beginning to roll down her cheeks.
The old lady had been knitting fast, her lips in their grim smile. Now she put in sharply.
“Don’t be a fool, Justine! Your hair’ll get all out of place and you’ll be as cross as two sticks over it. Go on upstairs and finish your decorating. It can’t hurt anybody. You two wouldn’t be happy if you couldn’t scratch out each other’s eyes every few minutes. It strikes me you’re all in the same box. The pot shouldn’t call the kettle black.”
Justine surveyed the old lady thoughtfully then answered with dignity, “You may be right, Cousin Hephsibah, but I wonder just what you meant by that last remark? Am I to suppose?”
“You’re to suppose nothing, Justine. I just called you a fool, that’s all. Now go upstairs and finish your work. You haven’t all the time in the world, you know. Primp up your room any way you please, and for pity’s sake let Amelia alone. She’s got all the cooking to do, remember!”
Justine slowly refastened the loosened crimping pin, replaced her sweeping cap after wiping her eyes on its border, and, turning reproachfully with a martyr-like sigh, went upstairs.
When her footsteps had died away in the guest room above, Amelia lifted an offended chin and swept the old lady a reproachful glance.
“I should suppose,” she began with hurt dignity, “that I had a little closer claim on you, Mother, than just a distant cousin. Of course, I know we’re all indebted to you in a way, for house and board, but I try to do my part. But your own son’s wife, and your own grandson if you feel that way about it I’d better try to get a position.”
“Amelia!” said the old lady severely, “the difference is this: You weren’t born a fool! For pity’s sake live up to your birthright! Of course you got a claim, but remember this: Justine never has much pleasure. Can’t you let her enjoy what’s she got? She’s worked hard enough to bring this about; now if she can get any happiness out of it I guess we can stand it for a couple of months anyhow. Say, don’t I smell those apple pies burning? It beats all how you can make so much out of a few fool words!”
“But Mother, she’ll go and tell around now that Dana’s engaged, and he’ll be angry at me.”
“Well, isn’t he?” snapped the old lady anxiously. “He’s a fool if he isn’t, that’s all I’ve got to say.”
“Well, I suppose he is. I hope he is, but he hasn’t said anything to me about it,” said the mother with a troubled sigh. “You know Dana isn’t much for telling what’s going on in his life.”
“There’s some things you don’t need to tell,” said Grandma significantly. “However, I’ll speak to Justine. She’s no call to talk about Dana’s business even if he is a fool. Amelia, that pot is boiling over! My soul, I wish I had my good legs again!”
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