cope yes. You needn't have been
afraid for me." She fibbed a little, it is to be feared.

"Now don't talk dat 'way, chile. I know you laks him, an' I do' want
to stop you f'om tekin' him. Don't you say no, ez ef you wasn' nevah
gwine to say nothin' else. You jes' say a hol'in' off no."

"I like Mr. Northcope as a friend, and my no to him will be final."

The dinner did not go down very well with Mima that evening. It
stopped in her throat, and when she swallowed, it brought the tears to
her eyes. When it was done, she hurried away to her room.

She was so disappointed, but she would not confess it to herself, and
she would not weep. "He proposed to me because he pitied me, oh, the
shame of it! He turned me out of doors, and then thought I would be
glad to come back at any price."

When he read her cold formal note, Bartley knew that he had offended
her, and the thought burned him like fire. He cursed himself for a
blundering fool. "She was only trying to be kind to father and me," he
said, "and I have taken advantage of her goodness." He would never
have confessed to himself before that he was a coward. But that
morning when he got her note, he felt that he could not face her just
yet, and commending his father to the tender mercies of Mammy Peggy
and the servants, he took the first train to the north.

It would be hard to say which of the two was the most disappointed
when the truth was known. It might better be said which of the three,
for Mima went no more to the house, and the elder Northcope fretted
and was restless without her. He availed himself of an invalid's
privilege to be disagreeable, and nothing Mammy Peggy could do now
would satisfy him. Indeed, between the two, the old woman had a hard
time of it, for Mima was tearful and morose, and would not speak to
her except to blame her. As the days went on she wished to all the
powers that she had left the Harrison pride in the keeping of the
direct members of the family. It had proven a dangerous thing in her
hands.

Mammy soliloquized when she was about her work in the kitchen. "Men
ain' whut dey used to be," she said, "who'd 'a' t'ought o' de young
man a runnin' off dat away jes' 'cause a ooman tol' him no. He orter
had sense enough to know dat a ooman has sev'al kin's o' noes. Now ef
dat 'ud 'a' been in my day he'd a jes' stayed away to let huh t'ink
hit ovah an' den come back an' axed huh ag'in. Den she could 'a' said
yes all right an' proper widout a