FullReads

“And you’ve bought the Carroll place,” said Mrs. Stapp, with the freedom of a privileged friend. “Whatever made you do it? I’m sure you are as cosy here as need be, and nobody but yourself. Isn’t this house big enough for you?”

“No, it isn’t. All my life I’ve been hankering for a good, big, roomy house, and all my life I’ve had to put up with little boxes of places, not big enough to turn round in. I’ve been contented, and made the best of what I had, but now that I can afford it, I mean to have a house that will suit me. The Carroll house is just what I want, for all it is a little old-fashioned. I’ve always had a notion of that house, although I never expected to own it any more than the moon.”

“It’s a real handsome place,” admitted Mrs. Stapp, “but I expect it will need a lot of fixing up. Nobody has lived in it for six years. When are you going to move in?”

“In about three weeks, if all goes well. I’m having it all painted and done over inside. The outside can wait until the spring.”

“It’s queer how things come about,” said Mrs. Stapp meditatively. “I guess old Mrs. Carroll never imagined her home was going to pass into other folks’ hands as it has. When you and I were girls, and Louise Carroll was giving herself such airs over us, you didn’t much expect to ever stand in her shoes, did you? Do you remember Lou?”

“Yes, I do,” said Mrs. March sharply. A change came over her sonsy, smiling face. It actually looked hard and revengeful, and a cruel light flickered in her dark brown eyes. “I’ll not forget Lou Carroll as long as I live. She is the only person in this world I ever hated. I suppose it is sinful to say it, but I hate her still, and always will.”

“I never liked her myself,” admitted Mrs. Stapp. “She thought herself above us all. Well, for that matter I suppose she was–but she needn’t have rubbed it in so.”

“Well, she might have been above me,” said Mrs. March bitterly, “but she wasn’t above twitting and snubbing me every chance she got. She always had a spite at me from the time we were children together at school. When we grew up it was worse. I couldn’t begin to tell you all the times that girl insulted me. But there was once in particular–I’ll never forgive her for it. I was at a party, and she was there too, and so was that young Trenham Manning, who was visiting the Ashleys. Do you remember him, Dosia? He was a handsome young fellow, and Lou had a liking for him, so all the girls said. But he never looked at her that night, and he kept by me the whole time. It made Lou furious, and at last she came up to me with a sneer on her face, and her black eyes just snapping, and said, ‘Miss Bennett, Mother told me to tell you to tell your ma that if that plain sewing isn’t done by tomorrow night she’ll send for it and give it to somebody else; if people engage to have work done by a certain time and don’t keep their word, they needn’t expect to get it.’ Oh, how badly I felt! Mother and I were poor, and had to work hard, but we had feelings just like other people, and to be insulted like that before Trenham Manning! I just burst out crying then and there, and ran away and hid. It was very silly of me, but I couldn’t help it. That stings me yet. If I was ever to get a chance to pay Lou Carroll out for that, I’d take it without any compunction.”

“Oh, but that is unchristian!” protested Mrs. Stapp feebly.