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II. The People at Blooms-End Make Ready

           

           “DearClym,Iwonderhowyourfacelooksnow?”shesaid,gazingabstractedlyatthepigeon-hole,whichadmittedthesunlightsodirectlyuponherbrownhairandtransparenttissuesthatitalmostseemedtoshinethroughher.

           “Ifhecouldhavebeendeartoyouinanotherway,”saidMrs.Yeobrightfromtheladder,“thismighthavebeenahappymeeting.”

           “Isthereanyuseinsayingwhatcandonogood,Aunt?”

           “Yes,”saidheraunt,withsomewarmth.“Tothoroughlyfilltheairwiththepastmisfortune,sothatothergirlsmaytakewarningandkeepclearofit.”

           Thomasinloweredherfacetotheapplesagain.“Iamawarningtoothers,justasthievesanddrunkardsandgamblersare,”shesaidinalowvoice.“Whataclasstobelongto!DoIreallybelongtothem?’Tisabsurd!Yetwhy,Aunt,doeseverybodykeeponmakingmethinkthatIdo,bythewaytheybehavetowardsme?Whydon’tpeoplejudgemebymyacts?Now,lookatmeasIkneelhere,pickinguptheseapples—doIlooklikealostwoman?...IwishallgoodwomenwereasgoodasI!”sheaddedvehemently.

           “Strangersdon’tseeyouasIdo,”saidMrs.Yeobright;“theyjudgefromfalsereport.Well,itisasillyjob,andIampartlytoblame.”

           “Howquicklyarashthingcanbedone!”repliedthegirl.Herlipswerequivering,andtearssocrowdedthemselvesintohereyesthatshecouldhardlydistinguishapplesfromfernasshecontinuedindustriouslysearchingtohideherweakness.

           “Assoonasyouhavefinishedgettingtheapples,”herauntsaid,descendingtheladder,“comedown,andwe’llgofortheholly.

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