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reputation. I said to her solemnly, ‘Doss, when a woman’s reputation is
once smirched nothing can ever make it spotless again. Your character
will be gone for ever if you go to Roaring Abel’s to wait on a bad girl
like Sis Gay.’ And she said, ‘I don’t believe Cissy was a bad girl, but
I don’t care if she was.’ Those were her very words, ‘I don’t care if
she was.’”
“She has lost all sense of decency,” exploded Uncle Benjamin.
“‘Cissy Gay is dying,’ she said, ‘and it’s a shame and disgrace that
she is dying in a Christian community with no one to do anything for
her. Whatever she’s been or done, she’s a human being.’”
“Well, you know, when it comes to that, I suppose she is,” said Uncle
James with the air of one making a splendid concession.
“I asked Doss if she had no regard for appearances. She said, ‘I’ve
been keeping up appearances all my life. Now I’m going in for
realities. Appearances can go hang!’ Go _hang_!”
“An outrageous thing!” said Uncle Benjamin violently. “An outrageous
thing!”
Which relieved his feelings, but didn’t help any one else.
Mrs. Frederick wept. Cousin Stickles took up the refrain between her
moans of despair.
“I told her—we _both_ told her—that Roaring Abel had certainly killed
his wife in one of his drunken rages and would kill her. She laughed
and said, ‘I’m not afraid of Roaring Abel. He won’t kill _me_, and he’s
too old for me to be afraid of his gallantries.’ What did she mean?
What _are_ gallantries?”
Mrs. Frederick saw that she must stop crying if she wanted to regain
control of the conversation.
“_I_ said to her, ‘Valancy, if you have no regard for your own
reputation and your family’s standing, have you none for _my_
feelings?’ She said, ‘None.’ Just like that, ‘_None_!’”
“Insane people never _do_ have any regard for other people’s feelings,”
said Uncle Benjamin. “That’s one of the symptoms.”
“I broke out into tears then, and she said, ‘Come now, Mother, be a
good sport. I’m going to do an act of Christian charity, and as for the
damage it will do my reputation, why, you know I haven’t any
matrimonial chances anyhow, so what does it matter?’ And with that she
turned and went out.”
“The last words I said to her,” said Cousin Stickles pathetically,
“were, ‘Who will rub my back at nights now?’ And she said—she said—but
no, I cannot repeat it.”
“Nonsense,” said Uncle Benjamin. “Out with it. This is no time to be
squeamish.”
“She said”—Cousin Stickles’ voice was little more than a whisper—“she
said—‘Oh, _darn_!’”
“To think I should have lived to hear my daughter swearing!” sobbed
Mrs. Frederick.
“It—it was only imitation swearing,” faltered Cousin Stickles, desirous
of smoothing things over now that the worst was out. But she had
_never_ told about the bannister.
“It will be only a step from that to real swearing,” said Uncle James
sternly.
“The worst of this”—Mrs. Frederick hunted for a dry spot on her
handkerchief—“is that every one will know now that she is deranged. We
can’t keep it a secret any longer. Oh, I cannot bear it!”
“You should have been stricter with her when she was young,” said Uncle
Benjamin.
“I don’t see how I could have been,” said Mrs. Frederick—truthfully
enough.
“The worst feature of the case is that Snaith scoundrel is always
hanging around Roaring Abel’s,” said Uncle James. “I shall be thankful
if nothing worse comes of this mad freak than a few weeks at Roaring
Abel’s. Cissy Gay _can’t_ live much longer.”
“And she didn’t even take her flannel petticoat!” lamented Cousin
Stickles.
“I’ll see Ambrose Marsh again about this,” said Uncle Benjamin—meaning
Valancy, not the flannel petticoat.
“I’ll see Lawyer Ferguson,” said Uncle James.
“Meanwhile,” added Uncle Benjamin, “let us be calm.”
CHAPTER XVI