If Claude Merrill were so love-blighted that he could only by the greatest
self-control keep from flinging himself into the river, how could he conceal
his sufferings so completely from Mite Shapley,--little shallow-pated,
scheming coquette?
"So that pretty Merrill feller has gone, has he, mother?" inquired Old
Kennebec that night, as he took off his wet shoes and warmed his feet at the
kitchen oven. "Well, it ain't a mite too soon. I allers distrust that
pink-an'-white, rosy-posy kind of a man. One of the most turrible things that
ever happened in Gard'ner was brought about by jest sech a feller. Mothers hed
n't hardly ought to name their boy babies Claude without they expect 'em to
play the dickens with the girls. I don' know nothin' 'bout the fust Claude,
there ain't none of 'em in the Bible, air they, but whoever he was, I bate ye
he hed a deceivin' tongue. If it hed n't be'n for me, that Claude in Gard'ner
would 'a' run away with my brother's fust wife; an' I'll tell ye jest how I
contrived to put a spoke in his wheel."
But Mrs. Wiley, being already somewhat familiar with the circumstances, had
taken her candle and retired to her virtuous couch.
XI
Rose Sees the World
Was this the world, after all? Rose asked herself; and, if so, what was amiss
with it, and where was the charm, the bewilderment, the intoxication, the
glamour?
She had been glad to come to Boston, for the last two weeks in Edgewood had
proved intolerable.
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