His sister-in-law was waiting in the next room.As soon as his descent cleared the way she hurried in.From the threshold she glanced at the girl; what she saw sent her hurrying out to recompose herself.But the instant she again saw that expression of mute and dazed despair the tears fought for release.The effort to suppress outward signs of pity made her plain fat face grotesque.She could not speak.With a corner of her apron she wiped imaginary dust from the glass bells that protected the artificial flowers.The poor child! And all for no fault of hers--and because she had been born out of wedlock.But then, the old woman reflected, was it not one of the most familiar of God's mysterious ways that people were punished most severely of all for the things that weren't their fault--for being born in shame, or in bad or low families, or sickly, or for being stupid or ugly or ignorant? She envied Zeke--his unwavering belief in religion.She believed, but her tender heart was always leading her into doubts.
She at last got some sort of control over her voice."It'll turn out for the best," she said, with her back to Susan."It don't make much difference nohow who a woman marries, so long as he's steady and a good provider.Jeb seems to be a nice feller.He's better looking than your Uncle George was before he went to town and married a Lenox and got sleeked up.And Jeb ain't near so close as some.That's a lot in a husband." And in a kind of hysteria, bred of fear of silence just then, she rattled on, telling how this man lay awake o' nights thinking how to skin a flea for its hide and tallow, how that one had said only a fool would pay over a quarter for a new hat for his wife----"Will it be long?" asked the girl.
"I'll go down and see," said Mrs.Warham, glad of a real excuse for leaving the room.She began to cry as soon as she was in the hall.Two sparrows lit upon the window sill near Susan and screamed and pecked at each other in a mock fight.She watched them; but her shiver at the faint sound of her aunt's returning step far away down the stairs showed where her attention was.
When Zeke's wife entered she was standing and said:
"Is it time?"
"Come on, honey.Now don't be afraid."
Susan advanced with a firm step, preceded her aunt down the stairs.The black slouch hat and the straw of dignified cut were side by side on the shiny hall table.The parlor door was open;the rarely used showroom gave forth an earthy, moldy odor like that of a disturbed grave.Its shutters, for the first time in perhaps a year, were open; the mud daubers that had built in the crevices between shutters and sills, fancying they would never be disturbed, were buzzing crossly about their ruined homes.The four men were seated, each with his legs crossed, and each wearing the funereal expression befitting a solemn occasion.
Susan did not lift her eyes.The profusely whiskered man seated on the haircloth sofa smoothed his black alpaca coat, reset the black tie deep hid by his beard, rose and advanced with a clerical smile whose real kindliness took somewhat from its offensive unction."This is the young lady, is it?" said he, reaching for Susan's rising but listless hand."She is indeed a _young_ lady!"The two Warham men stood, shifting uneasily from leg to leg and rubbing their faces from time to time.Sallie Warham was standing also, her big unhealthy face twitching fantastically.
Jeb alone was seated--chair tilted back, hands in trousers pockets, a bucolic grin of embarrassment giving an expression of pain to his common features.A strained silence, then Zeke Warham said:
"I reckon we might as well go ahead."
The preacher took a small black-bound book from the inside pocket of his limp and dusty coat, cleared his throat, turned over the pages.That rustling, the creaking of his collar on his overstarched shirt band, and the buzzing of the mud daubers round the windows were the only sounds.The preacher found the place, cleared his throat again.
"Mr.Ferguson----"
Jeb, tall, spare, sallow, rose awkwardly.
"--You and Miss Lenox will take your places here----" and he indicated a position before him.
Susan was already in place; Jeb shuffled up to stand at her left.Sallie Warham hid her face in her apron.The preacher cleared his throat vigorously, began--"Dearly beloved"--and so on and on.When he put the questions to Susan and Jeb he told them what answer was expected, and they obeyed him, Jeb muttering, Susan with a mere, movement of the lips.When he had finished--a matter of less than three minutes--he shook hands warmly first with Susan, then with Jeb."Live in the fear of the Lord," he said."That's all that's necessary."Sallie put down her apron.Her face was haggard and gray.She kissed Susan tenderly, then led her from the room.They went upstairs to the bedroom."Do you want to stay to dinner?" she asked in the hoarse undertone of funeral occasions."Or would you rather go right away?""I'd rather go," said the girl.
"You set down and make yourself comfortable.I'll hook up your shawl strap."Susan sat by the window, her hands in her lap.The hand with the new circlet of gold on it was uppermost.Sallie busied herself with the bundle; abruptly she threw her apron over her face, knelt by the bed and sobbed and uttered inarticulate moans.The girl made no sound, did not move, looked unseeingly at her inert hands.A few moments and Sallie set to work again.She soon had the bundle ready, brought Susan's hat, put it on.
"It's so hot, I reckon you'll carry your jacket.I ain't seen as pretty a blue dress as this--yet it's plainlike, too." She went to the top of the stairs."She wants to go, Jeb," she called loudly."You'd better get the sulky ready."The answer from below was the heavy thump of Jeb's boots on the oilcloth covering of the hall floor.Susan, from the window, dully watched the young farmer unhitch the mare and lead her up in front of the gate.
"Come on, honey," said Aunt Sallie, taking up the bundle.
