Other Peoples Business | Page 5

twenty years before. Persis Dale, climbing the stairs as
nimbly as if it were early morning and she herself just turned sixteen,
seemed a woman eminently practical. Yet in the changes of those
twenty years, though trouble had been a frequent guest under the
sloping roof of the old-fashioned house and death had entered more
than once, there had never been a time when Persis had gone to her bed
without a good night to the photograph in the blue plush frame, never a
morning when she had begun the day without looking into the eyes of
her old lover.
The most practical woman that ever made a button-hole or rolled a
pie-crust, despite a gray shimmer at her temples and a significant
tracery at the corners of her eyes, has a chamber in her heart marked
"private" where she keeps enshrined some tender memory. At the core,
every woman is a sentimentalist.
CHAPTER II
THE LOVER
Thomas Hardin, trudging through the dusk of the spring evening, his
shoulders stooping and his hands thrust deep into his pockets, wore an
expression better befitting an apprehensive criminal than an expectant
lover. As he approached the Dale cottage where the light of Persis'
lamp shone redly through the curtained window, his look of gloom
increased, and he gave vent to frequent and explosive sighs.
The sense of unworthiness likely to overwhelm the best of men who
seek the love of a good woman, was in Thomas' case complicated by a
morbidly sensitive conscience and ruthless honesty. To Thomas, Persis
Dale represented all that was loveliest in womankind, but he would
have resigned unhesitatingly all hope of winning her rather than have

gained her promise under false pretenses. "I can stand getting the
mitten if it comes to that," Thomas assured himself with a fearful
sinking of the heart, which belied the boast. "But I can't stand the idea
of taking her in." When she knew him at his undisguised worst, it
would be time enough to consider taking him for a possible better.
Unluckily for his peace of mind, confession was more intricate and
protracted than in his complacency he would have believed. It seemed
impossible to finish with it. Whenever he nerved himself to the point of
putting the question which had trembled on his lips for a dozen years,
dark episodes from his past flashed into his memory with the
disconcerting suddenness of a search-light, and further humiliating
disclosures were in order before he could direct his attention to the
business of love-making. Sometimes Thomas felt that his reputation for
uprightness was a proof of hypocrisy, and that his friends and
neighbors would shrink away aghast if they suspected a fraction of his
unsavory secrets.
Persis was alone when Thomas entered. Not till the last lingering tinge
of gold had deserted the west, would Joel venture to leave the room
barricaded against the hostile element. But at any moment now he
might think it safe to risk himself down-stairs, and knowing this,
Thomas resolved to waste no time in preliminaries.
"How's your sister and the children?" Persis asked, shaking hands and
returning to her sewing. She offered no excuse for continuing her work,
nor did Thomas wish it. There was a delicious suggestion of
domesticity in the sight of Persis sewing by the shaded lamp while he
sat near enough to have touched the busy fingers, had he but won the
right to such a privilege.
"Nellie's well. Little Tom's eyes have been troubling him since he had
the measles, but the doctor thinks it's nothing serious. Look here, Persis,
I was wondering as I came along if you knew that I chewed."
Persis' lids dropped just in time to hide a quizzical, humorous gleam in
her eyes. The rest of her face remained becomingly grave. "I may have
suspected it, Thomas."

"It's a filthy habit," he said, inordinately relieved by her astuteness and
yet with wonder.
She looked up from her work to explain. "It's this way, Thomas.
Sometimes when I go into the store I catch sight of you before you see
me, and maybe one of your cheeks will be all swollen up as if you had
the toothache. Then you slip into the back room, and come out in
quarter of a minute with both of 'em the same size. It's a woman's way,
Thomas, to put two and two together."
Thomas' face was radiant. That weight was off his conscience. He had a
right to proceed to more agreeable disclosures, undeterred by the fear
of practising deception on the noblest of God's creatures. It contributed
to his joy that Persis had known of his weakness, and yet had not
crushed him with her contempt. She had not even expressed agreement
when he had called chewing tobacco a