In the evening after supper in the Hardy house, Albert Hardy began to praise Louise.  One of the teachers had spoken highly of her and he was delighted.  “Well, again I have heard of it,” he began, looking hard at his daughters and then turning to smile at Louise.  “Another of the teachers has told me of the good work Louise is doing.  Everyone in Winesburg is telling me how smart she is.  I am ashamed that they do not speak so of my own girls.”  Arising, the merchant marched about the room and lighted his evening cigar.

The two girls looked at each other and shook their heads wearily.  Seeing their indifference the father became angry.  “I tell you it is something for you two to be thinking about,” he cried, glaring at them.  “There is a big change coming here in America and in learning is the only hope of the coming generations.  Louise is the daughter of a rich man but she is not ashamed to study.  It should make you ashamed to see what she does.”

The merchant took his hat from a rack by the door and prepared to depart for the evening.  At the door he stopped and glared back.  So fierce was his manner that Louise was frightened and ran upstairs to her own room.  The daughters began to speak of their own affairs.  “Pay attention to me,” roared the merchant.  “Your minds are lazy.  Your indifference to education is affecting your characters.  You will amount to nothing.  Now mark what I say—­Louise will be so far ahead of you that you will never catch up.”

The distracted man went out of the house and into the street shaking with wrath.  He went along muttering words and swearing, but when he got into Main Street his anger passed.  He stopped to talk of the weather or the crops with some other merchant or with a farmer who had come into town and forgot his daughters altogether or, if he thought of them, only shrugged his shoulders.  “Oh, well, girls will be girls,” he muttered philosophically.

In the house when Louise came down into the room where the two girls sat, they would have nothing to do with her.  One evening after she had been there for more than six weeks and was heartbroken because of the continued air of coldness with which she was always greeted, she burst into tears.  “Shut up your crying and go back to your own room and to your books,” Mary Hardy said sharply.

* * *

The room occupied by Louise was on the second floor of the Hardy house, and her window looked out upon an orchard.  There was a stove in the room and every evening young John Hardy carried up an armful of wood and put it in a box that stood by the wall.  During the second month after she came to the house, Louise gave up all hope of getting on a friendly footing with the Hardy girls and went to her own room as soon as the evening meal was at an end.

Her mind began to play with thoughts of making friends with John Hardy.  When he came into the room with the wood in his arms, she pretended to be busy with her studies but watched him eagerly.  When he had put the wood in the box and turned to go out, she put down her head and blushed.  She tried to make talk but could say nothing, and after he had gone she was angry at herself for her stupidity.