Secretly, too, both were ashamed, having come unawares upon knowledge that was not meant for them.  Presently, Roger went home, and was glad to be alone in the free outer air; but, long after he was gone, Barbara sat in the dark, her heart aching with the burden of her father’s doubt and her dead mother’s secret.

VII

An Afternoon Call

The rap at the Norths’ front door was of the sort which would impel the dead to rise and answer it.  Before the echo of the imperative summons had died away, Miriam had opened it and admitted Miss Mattie.

[Sidenote:  Bein’ Neighbourly]

“I was sewin’ over to my house,” announced the visitor, settling herself comfortably, “and I surmised as how you might be sewin’ over here, so I thought we might as well set together for a spell.  I believe in bein’ neighbourly.”

Barbara smiled a welcome and Miriam brought in a quilt which she was binding by hand.  As she worked, she studied Miss Mattie furtively, and with an air of detachment.

“I come over on the trail Roger has wore in the grass,” continued Miss Mattie, biting off her thread with a snap.  “He’s organised himself into sort of a travellin’ library, I take it, what with transportin’ books at all hours back and forth.  After I go to bed, Roger lets himself out and sneaks over here, carryin’ readin’ matter both ways.  But land’s sake,” she chuckled, “I ain’t carin’ what he does after I get sleepy.  I was never one to stay up after nine o’clock for the sake of entertainment.  If there’s sickness, or anythin’ like that, of course it’s a different matter.

“Roger’s pa was always a great one for readin’, and we’ve both inherited it from him.  Roger sits with his books and I sit with my paper, and we both read, never sayin’ a word to each other, till almost nine o’clock.  We’re what you might call a literary family.

[Sidenote:  “Jewel of a Girl”]

“I’m just readin’ a perfectly beautiful story called Margaret Merriman, or the Maiden’s Mad Marriage.  Margaret must have been worth lookin’ at, for she had golden hair and eyes like sapphires and ruby lips and pearly teeth.  I was readin’ the description of her to Roger, and he said she seemed to be what some people would call ‘a jewel of a girl.’

“Margaret Merriman’s mother died when she was an infant in arms, just like your ma, Barbara, and left her to her pa.  Her pa didn’t marry again, though several was settin’ their caps for him on account of him bein’ young and handsome and havin’ a lot of money.  I suppose bein’ a widower had somethin’ to do with it, too.  It does beat all how women will run after a widower.  I suppose they want a man who’s already been trained, but, speakin’ for myself, I’ve always felt as if I’d rather have somethin’ fresh and do my own trainin’—­women’s notions differ so about husbands.

[Sidenote:  Training Husbands]