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Allen, James Lane, 1849-1925

"The Mettle of the Pasture"


"Good-by, Anna," she said, rising tremblingly, though at the
beginning of her visit.
"Oh, good-by, Harriet," replied Miss Anna, giving a cheerful shake
to the yellow bowl.
As Harriet walked slowly down the street, a more courageously
dressed woman than she had been for years, her chin quivered and
she shook with sobs heroically choked back.
Miss Anna went into the library and sat down near the door. Her
face which had been very white was scarlet again: "What was it you
did--tell me quickly. I cannot stand it."
He came over and taking her cheeks between his palms turned her
face up and looked down into her eyes. But she shut them quickly.
"What do you suppose I did? Harriet and I sat for half an hour in
another room. I don't remember what I did; but it could not have
been anything very bad: others were all around us."
She opened her eyes and pushed him away harshly: "I have wounded
Harriet in her most sensitive spot; and then I insulted her after I
wounded her," and she went upstairs.
Later he found the bouquet on his library table with the card stuck
in the top. The flowers stayed there freshly watered till the
petals strewed his table: they were not even dusted away.
As for Harriet herself, the wound of the morning must have
penetrated till it struck some deep flint in her composition; for
she came back the next day in high spirits and severely
underdressed--in what might be called toilet reduced to its lowest
terms, like a common fraction.


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