The workmen went out of the shop door and stood talking. The bald-headed
man was telling a tale to which the others listened eagerly. "It's all over
town," he said. "From what I hear every one say it isn't the first time
she's been in such a mess. Old Tom Butterworth claimed he sent her away to
school three years ago, but now they say that isn't the truth. What they
say is that she was in the family way to one of her father's farm hands and
had to get out of town." The man laughed. "Lord, if Clara Butterworth was
my daughter she'd be in a nice fix, wouldn't she, eh?" he said, laughing.
"As it is, she's all right. She's gone now and got herself mixed up with
this swindler Buckley, but her father's money will make it all right. If
she's going to have a kid, no one'll know. Maybe she's already had the kid.
They say she's a regular one for the men."
As the man talked Hugh came to the door and stood in the darkness
listening. For a time the words would not penetrate his consciousness, and
then he remembered what Clara had said. She had said something about Alfred
Buckley and that there would be a story connecting her name with his. She
had been hot and angry and had declared the story a lie. Hugh did not know
what the story was about, but it was evident there was a story abroad, a
scandalous story concerning her and Alfred Buckley. A hot, impersonal anger
took possession of him.
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