"Very pretty," Melinda thought, while Mrs. Jones fell to comparing her,
mentally, with the deceased Abigail; wondering how Richard, if he had
ever loved the one, could have fancied the other, they were so unlike.
Of course, the mother's heart gave to Abigail the preference for all
that was good and womanly, and worthy of Richard Markham; but Ethelyn
bore off the palm for style, and beauty, too.
"Handsome as a doll, but awfully proud," Mrs. Jones decided, during the
interval in which she squeezed her wounded thumb, and got the needle
again in motion upon Timothy's shirt-sleeve.
Ethelyn was not greatly disappointed in Mrs. Jones and her daughter; the
mother especially was much like what she had imagined her to be, while
Melinda was rather prettier--rather more like the Chicopee girls than
she expected. There was a look on her face like Susie Granger, and the
kindly expression of her black eyes made Ethelyn excuse her for wearing
a magenta bow, while her cheeks were something the same hue. They were
very stiff at first, Mrs. Jones saying nothing at all, and Melinda only
venturing upon common-place inquiries--as to how Ethelyn bore her
journey, if she was ever in that part of the country before, and how she
thought she should like the West. This last question Ethelyn could not
answer directly.
"It was very different from New England," she said, "but she was
prepared for that, and hoped she should not get very homesick during the
few weeks which would elapse before she went to Washington."
At this point Mrs. Markham stopped her patching and looked inquiringly
at Ethelyn. It was the first she had heard about Ethelyn's going to
Washington; indeed, she had understood that Richard's wife was to keep
her company during the winter, a prospect which since Ethelyn's arrival
had not looked so pleasing to her as it did before. How in the world
they should get on together without Richard, she did not know, and if
she consulted merely her own comfort she would have bidden Ethelyn go.
But there were other things to be considered--there was the great
expense it would be for Richard to have his wife with him. Heretofore he
had saved a good share of his salary, but with Ethelyn it would be money
out of his pocket all the time; besides that, there were reasons why it
was not proper for Ethelyn to go; her best place was at home.
Thus reasoned Mrs. Markham, and when next her needle resumed its work on
Andy's patch, Ethelyn's fate with regard to Washington was decided, for
as thought the mother on that point, so eventually would think the son,
who deferred so much to her judgment. He came in after a little, looking
so well and handsome that Ethelyn felt proud of him, and had he then
laid his hand upon her shoulder, or put his arm around her waist, as he
sometimes did when they were alone, she would not have shaken it off, as
was her usual custom. Indeed, such is the perversity of human nature,
and so many contradictions are there in it, that Ethelyn rather wished
he would pay her some little attention. She could not forget Abigail,
with Abigail's mother and sister sitting there before her, and she
wanted them to see how fond her husband was of her, hoping thus to prove
how impossible it was that Abigail could ever have been to him what she
was. But Richard was shy in the presence of others, and would sooner
have put his arm around Melinda than around his wife, for fear he should
be thought silly. He was very proud of her, though, and felt a thrill of
satisfaction in seeing how superior, both in look and manner, she was to
Melinda Jones, whose buxom, healthy face grew almost coarse and homely
from comparison with Ethelyn's.