Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1888-01-29
slowly lighted her candle and went her

Emily was washing up the suppe
things. Cass held q damp, unlovel,
cloth, and wiped the plates and forks a
Emily took them, one by one, from thu
water. For some minutes there was n
sound in the room but the clatter o
plate touching plate and the hiss of tn
Gas turned low. Cass stood upright a
her task Emily stopped little, with 81
air OF WEAKNESS or weakness which wa
habitual to her.
Neither had spoken. Emily looked
as she always looked-ber thin littl
face almost colorless, her eyes cas-
down, her light hair drawn tightly bacl
into hard little hair-pinned knot be
hind. her print gown limp, her name
gentle, deprccating. There was no Oh
vious change in her tonight. Yet, be
fore many minutes had passed, it some
how became clear 10 Cass that Emil.
was excited. that something unusual ha'
happened, that Emily had something oil
her mind that she desired to tell.
"They IN most done" said Emily a
last. Although the remark referred t.
the dishes. Cass understood that it wa
in some way preparatory to more i'm
portapt communication. II broke the 81
lence.
But il was not remark that called fol
answer or comment.
"Theles tn tumblers, " added Emily
gently after minute.
Yes" said Cass.
"Pest change tn water" said Emily
waveringly.
Cass, without word, took the bow
and changed the water rapidly.
otis funny" said Emily, in a timiC
and reflective tone, as she dipped The
first glass in the clean water and batheo
away the traces OF rum and sugar. " III
funny to think now all days is tn same
LAWN meals, washin up, brushin' an
cIeanin' an maxim beds-an' yet how
dihernt-sort O differ 'nt-some day.
seems"
Cass was wiping glass with needless
yigor. Somehow she knew beforehand
what was coming. Emily raised two
light, timid. pathetic eyes. and looked a
her with a sort of deprecating glance.
I'D like to tell zee somethin, Cass
but you'll he angered wi me-"
"Not l." said Cass shortly. can
gered? Not likely"
But the assurance did not convey
much encouragement. Emily bent agar
to her work in silence.
cts you an jim, s'pose, " said Cas-
after a minute, as the silence lasted.
eyes. Don be angered, Cass-dOn
be vexed-not long wi me. be
wouldn't take mo an / did say mo
to n at first. An he was Always diff
fer'nt to tn other men-kind about
things-an' serious, an no nonsense an
ieerin'. On'y | was afeard you might
might take it unkind, Cass-an' be an
gered."
There was a long pause. Cass was
striving after impressiveness, eager tc
tell her lie with force, with truthllke IN
tensity. She put both hands on the
table, and, leaning on the down-turned
palms. bent across and looked steadily
and calmly at Emily, whose eyes fell
"You'm in love wi jim, she said
"an' You think all the worlds in love
tn same. If I'd been in love vi n
Emily. should / have cast n up? Tel
me that. Do look as if | was frettin'
Do I? Why, | threw n up mesef. Il
was tired o. his prcachln ways; we'd
been keepin' company long enough, an
| was tired OF il. It's all one to me What
he does, an where he goes, an who hC
marries. An I'm glad he's took up WI
you; youm made fur 'n-just his sort
an you've set yer mind on n fur tn last
two year. It's naught to mean In
glad. Dom talk of my bein' angered
Angered? What about? Might marry
dozen wives fur all 'twould fret me
might be brought in drowned to morrow
an | shouldn fast meself. "
Emily was cryiDg in nervous, feeble
way. When Cass stood dramatically nnd
spoke forcibly Emily was always little
frightened Perhaps, too, the picture
of jim with eleven rival wives aud the
remainder Of the daily jeopardy of Jim's
life at sea seemed malevolent.
"Tm goin' to bed" said Cass in q
gentler tone. Tears, in spite Of herself,
always softened her her instinct, like q
mans. was TO run away from them.
you'd bes' come, too. En-"
Emily followed obediently, wiping hel
eyes on the sleeve of her cotton gown
and crying still because she had once
begun. Cass looked at her uneasily,
feeling conscience stricken, as though in
cowardly fashion she had struck child.
"I'm glad if yOu'm happy, EN-, she
said. "Not carin' fur jim meself, l can
be glad, you see."
can you don care fur n ?" said En-
ilv dubiousy. She was not shrewd al
gauging others feelings; but indiffe-
renee TO Jim seemed an incredible. an
impossible thing. She was not sure now
that she had wished Cass to be thus in
different; she had thought, perhaps
hoped, that Cass would envy her Il little.
"Didn' YOU ever care ?" she added.
odd YOU like tn other men jus TIA
same He ism like tn other men. jim
ism; he doesn' think o. drinkin an
spendin, an lOyin' out all his money on
hisself in plays an drink. He's chapel
man. jim is. "
Hes a saint" said Cass.
Emily was following YEARLY up the
stairs and for moment or two was
silent. "You don't speak very kind o
Jim" she said presently, in tone OF
querulous, vague resentment.
Cass laughed little as she reached
her door. "You'm able to 90 that yer
self, En-" she said. "Speak kind and
do kind that's fur you. What | say an
dos no odds"
She entered the room where her
mother was sleeping and shut the door
behind her, and Emily went on to her
little cupboard.like bedroom near the
sky. Sleep came quickly to neither to-
night Emily was too happy to go pro-
saically to bed she was tired with the
days running to and fro, but sleep was
far from her eyes. She sat at the
foot of her bed and leaned her head
against the wall, and in slow, happy
fashion her thoughts rehearsed the
interview OF an hour or two ago
what Jim had said what she had an
swered at what point in the interview
Jim's grave. gray eyes had smiled at
her /; how she had looked down at her
cotton gown and wished that she had
starched it on Monday; how Jim had
IL Z