Emily. She took quite a notion to you Saturday . . . wanted to know who that handsome red-haired girl was at the next house.”
Mrs. Harrison welcomed Anne radiantly and insisted on her staying to tea.
“James A. has been telling me all about you and how kind you’ve been, making cakes and things for him,” she said. “I want to get acquainted with all my new neighbours just as soon as possible. Mrs. Lynde is a lovely woman, isn’t she? So friendly.”
When Anne went home in the sweet June dusk, Mrs. Harrison went with her across the fields where the fireflies were lighting their starry lamps.
“I suppose,” said Mrs. Harrison confidentially, “that James A. has told you our story?”
“Yes.”
“Then I needn’t tell it, for James A. is a just man and he would tell the truth. The blame was far from being all on his side. I can see that now. I wasn’t back in my own house an hour before I wished I hadn’t been so hasty but I wouldn’t give in. I see now that I expected too much of a man. And I was real foolish to mind his bad grammar. It doesn’t matter if a man does use bad grammar so long as he is a good provider and doesn’t go poking round the pantry to see how much sugar you’ve used in a week. I feel that James A. and I are going to be real happy now. I wish I knew who ‘Observer’ is, so that I could thank him. I owe him a real debt of gratitude.”
