vident to him, for to a man of his position and figure girls were
cheap creatures, the best of them to be had for the mere asking.
Therefore, the fact that this girl could be seriously rejecting his
offer of marriage came upon him like red astonishment. He had no more
to say, however, and he blundered and fumbled into silence.

For a moment or two the little room was so still that the quietness
seemed to hum and buzz like an eternity. Then, with a sigh, Mrs.
Makebelieve spoke.

"I don't know at all," said she, "why you should speak to me about
this, for neither my daughter nor yourself have ever even hinted to me
before that you were courting one another. Why Mary should keep such a
secret from her own mother I don't know. Maybe I've been cruel and
frightened her, although I don't remember doing anything that she
could have against me of that sort: or, maybe, she didn't think I was
wise enough to advise her about a particular thing like her marriage,
for, God knows, old women are foolish enough in their notions, or else
they wouldn't be slaving and grinding for the sake of their children
the way they do be doing year in and year out, every day in the week,
and every hour of the day. It isn't any wonder at all that a child
would be a liar and a sleeveen and a trampler of the roads with the
first man that nods to her when her mother is a foolish person that
she can't trust. Of course, I wouldn't be looking for a gentleman like
yourself to mention the matter to me when I might be scrubbing out
your aunt's kitchen or her hall door maybe, and you sitting in the
parlor with the company. Sure, I'm only an old charwoman, and what
does it matter at all what I'd be thinking, or whether I'd be agreeing
or not to anything? Don't I get my wages for my work, and what more
does anybody want in the world? As for me going to live with you when
you are married--it was kind of you to ask me that; but it's not the
sort of thing I'm likely to do, for if I didn't care for you as a
stranger I'm not going to like you any better as my daughter's
husband. You'll excuse me saying one thing, Sir, but while we are
talking we may as well be talking out, and it's this, that I never did
like you, and I never will like you, and I'd sooner see my daughter
married to any one at all than to yourself. But, sure, I needn't be
talking about it; isn't it Mary's business altogether, and she'll be
settling it with you nicely I don't doubt. She's a practiced ha