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 D