for no fault of
hers--and because she had been born out of wedlock. But then,
the old woman reflected, was it not one of the most familiar of
God's mysterious ways that people were punished most severely of
all for the things that weren't their fault--for being born in
shame, or in bad or low families, or sickly, or for being stupid
or ugly or ignorant? She envied Zeke--his unwavering belief in
religion. She believed, but her tender heart was always leading
her into doubts.

She at last got some sort of control over her voice. "It'll turn
out for the best," she said, with her back to Susan. "It don't
make much difference nohow who a woman marries, so long as he's
steady and a good provider. Jeb seems to be a nice feller. He's
better looking than your Uncle George was before he went to town
and married a Lenox and got sleeked up. And Jeb ain't near so
close as some. That's a lot in a husband." And in a kind of
hysteria, bred of fear of silence just then, she rattled on,
telling how this man lay awake o' nights thinking how to skin a
flea for its hide and tallow, how that one had said only a fool
would pay over a quarter for a new hat for his wife----

"Will it be long?" asked the girl.

"I'll go down and see," said Mrs. Warham, glad of a real excuse
for leaving the room. She began to cry as soon as she was in the
hall. Two sparrows lit upon the window sill near Susan and
screamed and pecked at each other in a mock fight. She watched
them; but her shiver at the faint sound of her aunt's returning
step far away down the stairs showed where her attention was.
When Zeke's wife entered she was standing and said:

"Is it time?"

"Come on, honey. Now don't be afraid."

Susan advanced with a firm step, preceded her aunt down the
stairs. The black slouch hat and the straw of dignified cut were
side by side on the shiny hall table. The parlor door was open;
the rarely used showroom gave forth an earthy, moldy odor like
that of a disturbed grave. Its shutters, for the first time in
perhaps a year, were open; the mud daubers that had built in the
crevices between shutters and sills, fancying they would never
be disturbed, were buzzing crossly about their ruined homes. The
four men were seated, each with his legs crossed, and each
wearing the funereal expression befitting a solemn occasion.
Susan did not lift her eyes. The profusely whiskered man seated
on the haircloth sofa smoothed his black alpaca coat