Chapter 6
"SHE'S AN EVIL INFLUENCE"
Fireflies sparked in backyard gardens. St. Cecilia's bells tolled eleven. Tomatoes, string beans, lettuce, blended their fragrance in the cool dew.
Silence.
"Sh-sh," breathed Lucy. Her laugh butterflied softly into the night air. Part of each night's game was not to arouse Aunt Mabel, alone in her old-maid bedroom above waiting to pounce. In the porch shadow they could quickly separate if someone passed.
She cupped her hand on his round clipped curly head as he kissed her responding lips. A gesture like a mother's holding a baby's head to nurse.
Maybe, she thought, only men have that shivery feeling. Or can it be I'm not old enough to know the feeling when I have it? Miss Shaver had it when she kissed me, but the girls that night at the Crofter Hotel didn't, the way they laughed at the men. Those men were awful. I guess you get to sound like that awful Horta with men like that. Harry's the same age as Frank but he acts older. Maybe because he's richer and has an auto. The girls are crazy about him. Vida too. She acts silly when he's around. I like him, I guess. He's certainly nice to me. I always think that maybe tonight I'll want him to kiss me. But when he does it's fun but not exciting. Miss Shaver knows how to kiss better. Sometimes girls get married when they're thirteen. In India, or there was that Southern girl in the paper. I like dancing better. Even ballroom dancing. When I hear the music in the theatre I feel the way I want to when Harry kisses me. Or, it's funny, like I feel when I touch the trunks of trees. They are so strong to lean on. Boys always want to lean all over me. They act like they're—hungry. I ought to start practicing dancing again.
"Hey," said Harry, giving her a squeeze, "what're you thinking about?" He had begun to notice her abstraction. She's hard to figure, he thought. You think you can do anything with her, but you can't. She never stops you actually, but you know you got to go slow.
