Susan Lenox: Her Fall and Rise, by David Graham Phillips

place but your Uncle Zeke's. But it's so lonesome out there Ihaven't the heart to send her. Besides, she wouldn't know what tomake of it.""What'd father say?""That's another thing." Mrs. Warham had latterly grown jealous–not without reason–of her husband's partiality for Susan.Ruth sighed. "Oh, dear!" cried she. "I don't know what to do.How's she ever going to get married!""If she'd only been a boy!" said Mrs. Warham, on her knees,taking the unevenness out of the front of the skirt. "A girl has tosuffer for her mother's sins."Ruth made no reply. She smiled to herself–the comment of theyounger generation upon the older. Sin it might have been; but,worse than that, it was a stupidity–to let a man make a fool of her.Lorella must have been a poor weak-minded creature.By dinner time Ruth had completely soothed and smoothed hervanity. Sam had been caught by Susan simply because he hadseen Susan before he saw her.All that would be necessary was a good chance at him, and hewould never look at Susan again. He had been in the East, wherethe admired type was her own–refined, ladylike, the woman of thedainty appearance and manners and tastes. A brief undisturbedexposure to her charms and Susan would seem coarse andcountrified to him. There was no denying that Susan had style, butit was fully effective only when applied to a sunny fairy-like beautysuch as hers.But at midday, when Susan came in with Warham, Ruth'sjealousy opened all her inward-bleeding wounds again. Susan'smerry eyes, her laughing mouth, her funny way of saying evencommonplace things–how could quiet, unobtrusive, ladylikecharms such as Ruth's have a chance if Susan were about? Shewaited, silent and anxious, while her mother was having the talkwith her father in the sitting-room. Warham, mere man, wasamused by his wife's scheming."Don't put yourself out, Fanny," said he. "If the boy wants Ruthand she wants him, why, well and good. But you'll only make amess interfering. Let the young people alone.""I'm surprised, George Warham," cried Fanny, "that you canshow so little sense and heart.""To hear you talk, I'd think marriage was a business, likegroceries."Mrs. Warham thought it was, in a sense. But she would neverhave dared say so aloud, even to her husband–or, rather,especially to her husband. In matters of men and women he wasthoroughly innocent, with the simplicity of the old-time man of thesmall town and the country; he fancied that, while in grocerymatters and the like the world was full of guile, in matters of theheart it was idyllic, Arcadian, with never a thought of duplicity,except among a few obviously wicked and designing people."I guess we both want to see Ruth married well," was all shecould venture."I'd rather the girls stayed with us," declared Warham. "I'd hateto give them up.""Of course," hastily agreed Fanny. "Still–it's the regular order ofnature.""Oh, Ruth'll marry–only too soon," said Warham. "And marrywell. I'm not so sure, though, that marrying any of old Wright'sbreed would be marrying what ought to be called well. Money isn'teverything–not by a long sight–though, of course, it's comfortable.""I never heard anything against Sam," protested Mrs. Warham."You've heard what I've heard–that he's wild and loose. Butthen you women like that in a man.""We've got to put up with it, you mean," cried Fanny, indignant."Women like it," persisted Warham. "And I guess Sam's onlysowing the usual wild oats, getting ready to settle. No, mother, youlet Ruth alone. If she wants him, she'll get him–she or Susan."Mrs. Warham compressed her lips and lowered her eyes. Ruthor Susan–as if it didn't matter which! "Susan isn't »ours«," shecould not refrain from saying."Indeed, she is!" retorted George warmly. "Why, she couldn't bemore our own––""Yes, certainly," interrupted Fanny.