Instead she hesitated for a moment by
the gate and then laughed awkwardly and passed in. "You should be proud. I
would be proud if I could be spoken of like that. I don't see why you keep
living here in a cheap little house like ours," she said.
On a warm spring Sunday night during the year in which Clara Butterworth
came back to Bidwell to live, Hugh made what was for him an almost
desperate effort to approach the school teacher. It had been a rainy
afternoon and Hugh had spent a part of it in the house. He came over from
his shop at noon and went to his room. When she was at home the school
teacher occupied a room next his own. The mother who seldom left the house
had on that day gone to the country to visit a brother. The daughter got
dinner for herself and Hugh and he tried to help her wash the dishes. A
plate fell out of his hands and its breaking seemed to break the silent,
embarrassed mood that had possession of them. For a few minutes they were
children and acted like children. Hugh picked up another plate and the
school teacher told him to put it down. He refused. "You're as awkward as a
puppy. How you ever manage to do anything over at that shop of yours is
more than I know."
Hugh tried to keep hold of the plate which the school teacher tried to
snatch away and for a few minutes they struggled laughing. Her cheeks were
flushed and Hugh thought she looked bewitching.
Pages:
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267