"That is because you are really little more than a child," she said
kindly. "When you begin to _grow_, you will improve your mind."
Alicia puckered her brows. "Ah, but I'm Irish!" she said, seriously,
"and the Irish hate to have to improve their minds. I imagine it
takes an able-bodied mind to stand intensive cultivation," she
added, guilelessly.
Miss Hopkins smiled: it was a masterpiece, that smile!
"But why, may I ask, did you choose such a situation for the
statue?" she inquired critically. "Now, _I_ should never dream of
tucking it in such an out-of-the-way place!"
The pucker came back to Alicia's brow.
"Shouldn't you?" she wondered. "I shall make a point of mentioning
that to Mr. Nicholas Jelnik, if you don't mind. You see, he chose
that spot, and we rather like it, ourselves."
Miss Hopkins stopped dead short, and Mrs. Haile started in spite of
herself. Evidently, the situation was beyond them. Didn't we _know_?
How much had Judge Gatchell seen fit to tell us? Alicia had dropped
a bomb-shell that before night would detonate in every house in
Hyndsville. They haven't very much to talk about in small towns,
except one another, and when a plump mouse of gossip frisks about
whisking his tail, why, it is cat nature to pounce upon it.
Pages:
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112