"I have not explained why I was here, on your land, this morning.""That is all right.You are quite welcome to be here at any time.""Thank you.I told you I was walking by the bluff; that is true, but it isn't the whole truth.I was trying to muster courage to call on your mother."I looked at her in amazement.
"Call on Mother!" I repeated.
"Yes, I have heard a great deal about your mother, and nothing except the very best.I think I should like to know her.Do you think she would consider me presuming and intrusive if I did call?""Why, Miss Colton, I--"
"Please be frank about it, Mr.Paine.And please believe that my call would not be from idle curiosity.I should like to know her.
Of course, if this disagreement about the land makes a difference, if she feels resentful toward us, I will not think of such a thing.
Does she? Why do you smile? I am in earnest.""I did not mean to smile, Miss Colton.The idea of Mother's feeling resentment toward any one seemed absurd to me, that was all.""Then may I call on her?"
"Certainly.That is, if--if you think it wise.If your mother--""Oh, Mother has long ago given up trying to solve me.I am a greater puzzle to her than you seem to be to everyone, Mr.Paine.
I have spoken to my father about it and he is quite willing.His difference with you is purely a business one, as you know."Some of the "business" had been oddly conducted, but I did not raise the point.I could not reason just then.That this spoiled, city-bred daughter of "Big Jim" Colton should wish to know my mother was beyond reasoning.
She said good morning and we parted.I walked home, racking my brains to find the answer to this new conundrum.It was a whim on her part, of course, inspired by something George or Nellie had told her.I did not know whether to resent the whim or not, whether to be angry or indifferent.If she intended to inspect Mother as a possible object of future charity I should be angry and the first call would be the last.But Mother herself would settle all questions of charity; I knew that.And the girl had not spoken in a patronizing way.She had declared that idle curiosity had no part in her wish.She seemed in earnest.What would Mother say when I told her?
Lute was just coming through the gate as I approached it.He was in high good humor.
"I'm goin' up street," he declared."Anything you want me to fetch you from the store, Ros?"I looked at my watch.It was only eleven o'clock.
"Up street?" I repeated."I thought you were slated to wash windows this forenoon.I heard Dorinda give you your orders to that effect.You haven't finished washing them already?""No," with a broad grin, "I ain't finished 'em.Fact is, I ain't begun 'em yet.""So! Does Dorinda know that you are going up street?""Um-hm.She knows.Anyhow, she knows I'm goin' somewheres.She told me to go herself.""She did! Why?"
"Don't ask ME.I was all ready to wash the windows; had the bucket pumped full and everything.But when I come into the dinin'-room she sung out to know what I was doin' with all that water on her clean floor.'Why, Dorindy!' I says, 'I'm a-goin' to wash them windows same's you told me to.' 'No, you ain't,' says she.'But what will I do?' says I.'I don't care,' says she.'Clear out of here, that's all.' 'But where'll I clear out to?' I wanted to know.'I don't care!' she snaps again, savage as a settin' hen, 'so long's you clear out of my sight.' So here I be.Don't ask me why she changed her mind: _I_ don't know.Nothin' you want to the store?""No."
"Say, Ros, you know what I think?"
"Far be it from me to presume to guess your thoughts, Lute.""Well, I think this is a strange world and the strangest thing in it is a woman.You never can tell what they'll do ten minutes at a stretch.I--""All right, Lute.I'll hear the rest of the philosophy later.""Philosophy or not, it's the livin' truth.And when you're as old as I be you'll know it."I went in through the dining-room, steering clear of Dorinda, who scarcely looked up from her floor scrubbing.
"Mother," said I, entering the darkened bedroom, "I just met the Colton girl and what do you suppose she told me?""That she was very grateful to you for coming to her rescue the other night.""That, of course.But she told me something else.She said she was coming to call on you.On YOU, Mother!"I don't know what answer I expected.I flung the announcement like a bombshell and was ready for almost any sort of explosion at all.
"Did she?" observed Mother, placidly."I am very glad.I have no doubt I shall like her."My next remark had nothing to do with Miss Colton.
"Well, by George!" I exclaimed, with emphasis."Lute IS a philosopher, after all.I take off my hat to him."
