If he were in the room his eyes never left Mrs. Carter for a
moment, and it was this brooding gaze more than his disapproval that
irritated her. "You never can tell with poor little dears when they're
'queer' what fancies they'll take. Why, he quite seems to dislike me,
Mrs. Slater!"
Mrs. Slater could venture no denial; indeed, Henry's attitude aroused
once again in her mind her earlier suspicions. She had all the
reverence of her class for her son's "oddness." He knew more than
ordinary mortal folk, and could see farther; he saw beyond Mrs. Carter's
red cheeks and shining black hair, and the fact that he was, as a rule,
tractable to cheerful kindness, made his rejection the more remarkable.
But it might, nevertheless, be that the black things in Mrs. Carter's
past were the marks impressed upon Henry's sensitive intelligence; and
that he had not, as yet, perceived the new Mrs. Carter growing in grace
now day by day.
"'E'll get over 'is fancy, bless 'is 'eart." Mrs. Slater pursued then
her work of redemption.
III
On a certain evening in November, Mrs. Carter, coming in to see her
friend, invited sympathy for a very bad cold.
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