It all seemed so mean and sordid to me, as if we
were trying to--well, you know."
Ellen nodded:
"Of course I do. That's why you wouldn't let her have your furniture.
I gloried in your spunk, Fan."
"But I did let her have it, Ellen."
"You did? Well!"
"I'll tell you how it happened. Mother'd gone down to the village,
and Jim was off somewhere--he's never in the house day-times any
more; I'd been working on the new curtains all day, and I was just
putting them up in the parlor, when she came.... Ellen, sometimes I
think perhaps we don't understand that girl. She was just as sweet--
If it wasn't for-- If I hadn't hardened my heart against her almost
the first thing, you know, I don't believe I could help loving her."
"Fanny!" cried Ellen protestingly. "She certainly is a soft-soap
artist. My mother says she is so refined; and Mrs. Daggett is always
chanting her praises."
"Think of all she's done for the village," urged Fanny. "I want to be
just, even if--"
"Well, I don't!" cried Ellen. "I just enjoy being real spiteful
sometimes--especially when another girl gobbles all the men in sight;
and I know I'm prettier than she is. It's just because she's new
and--and stylish and rich. What made you give in about your
furniture, Fan?"
"Because I--"
Fanny stopped short, puckering her forehead.
"I don't know whether I can explain it, Ellen; but I notice it every
time I am with her. There's something--"
"Good gracious, Fan! She must have hypnotized you.
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