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which should have been the girl's。 Very tall； very blond； with the straight
nose and wistful eyes of the Flora of twenty years ago。 〃If only Adele
could have had his looks；〃 his mother used to say。 〃They're wasted on a
man。 He doesn't need them； but a girl does。 Adele will have to be well
dressed and interesting。 And that's such hard work。〃
Flora said she worshiped her children。 And she actually sometimes
still coquetted heavily with her husband。 At twenty she had been
addicted to baby talk when endeavoring to coax something out of someone。
Her admirers had found it irresistible。 At forty it was awful。 Her
selfishness was colossal。 She affected a semi…invalidism and for fifteen
years had spent one day a week in bed。 She took no exercise and a great
deal of soda bicarbonate and tried to fight her fat with baths。 Fifteen or
twenty years had worked a startling change in the two sisters； Flora the
beautiful and Sophy the plain。 It was more than a mere physical change。
It was a spiritual thing； though neither knew nor marked it。 Each had
taken on weight； the one； solidly； comfortably； the other； flabbily；
unhealthily。 With the encroaching fat； Flora's small； delicate features
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seemed； somehow； to disappear in her face； so that you saw it as a large
white surface bearing indentations； ridges； and hollows like one of those
enlarged photographs of the moon's surface as seen through a telescope。
A self…centered face； and misleadingly placid。 Aunt Sophy's large； plain
features； plumply padded now； impressed you as indicating strength；
courage； and a great human understanding。
From her husband and her children； Flora exacted service that would
have chafed a galley slave into rebellion。 She loved to lie in bed； in an
orchid bed jacket with ribbons； and be read to by Adele； or Eugene； or her
husband。 They all hated it。
〃She just wants to be waited on； and petted； and admired；〃 Adele had
stormed one day； in open rebellion； to her Aunt Sophy。 〃She uses it as an
excuse for everything and has； ever since Gene and I were children。
She's as strong as an ox。〃 Not a daughterly speech； but true。
Years before； a generous but misguided woman friend； coming in to
call； had been ushered in to where Mrs。 Baldwin lay propped up in a nest
of pillows。
〃Well； I don't blame you；〃 the caller had gushed。 〃If I looked the way
you do in bed I'd stay there forever。 Don't tell me you're sick； with all
that lovely color！〃
Flora Baldwin had rolled her eyes ceilingward。 〃Nobody ever gives
me credit for all my suffering and ill…health。 And just because all my
blood is in my cheeks。〃
Flora was ambitious； socially； but too lazy to make the effort necessary
for success in that direction。
〃I love my family；〃 she would say。 〃They fill my life。 After all；
that's a profession in itselfbeing a wife and mother。〃
She showed her devotion by taking no interest whatever in her
husband's land schemes； by forbidding Eugene to play football at school
for fear he might be injured； by impressing Adele with the necessity for
vivacity and modishness because of what she called her unfortunate lack
of beauty。
〃I don't understand it；〃 she used to say in the child's presence。 〃Her
father's handsome enough； goodness knows； and I wasn't such a fright
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when I was a girl。 And look at her！ Little dark skinny thing。〃
The boy； Eugene； grew up a very silent； handsome； shy young fellow。
The girl； dark； voluble； and rather interesting。 The husband； more and
more immersed in his business； was absent from home for long periods
irritable after some of these home…comings； boisterously high…spirited
following other trips。 Now growling about household expenses and
unpaid bills； now urging the purchase of some almost prohibitive luxury。
Anyone but a nagging； self…absorbed； and vain woman such as Flora
would have marked these unmistakable signs。 But Flora was a taker； not
a giver。 She thought herself affectionate because she craved affection
unduly。 She thought herself a fond mother because she insisted on
having her children with her； under her thumb； marking their devotion as a
prisoner marks time with his feet； stupidly； shufflingly； advancing not a
step。
Sometimes Sophy； the clear…eyed； seeing this state of affairs； tried to
stop it。
〃You expect too much of your husband and children；〃 she said one day；
bluntly； to her sister。
〃I！〃 Flora's dimpled hand had flown to her breast like a wounded
thing。 〃I！ You're crazy！ There isn't a more devoted wife and mother
in the world。 That's the trouble。 I love them too much。〃
〃Well； then；〃 grimly； 〃stop it for a change。 That's half Eugene's
nervousnessyour fussing over him。 He's eighteen。 Give him a chance。
You're weakening him。 And stop dinning that society stuff into Adele's
ears。 She's got brains； that child。 Why； just yesterday； in the workroom；
she got hold of some satin and a shape and turned out a little turban that
Angie Hatton〃
〃Do you mean to tell me that Angie Hatton saw my Adele working in
your shop！ Now； look here； Sophy。 You're earning your living； and it's
to your credit。 You're my sister。 But I won't have Adele associated in
the minds of my friends with your hat store； understand？ I won't have it。
That isn't what I sent her away to an expensive school for。 To have her
come back and sit around a millinery workshop with a lot of little； cheap；
shoddy sewing girls！ Now； understand； I won't have it！ You don't know
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what it is to be a mother。 You don't know what it is to have suffered。 If
you had brought two children into the world〃
So； then； it had come about during the years between their childhood
and their youth that Aunt Sophy received the burden of their confidences；
their griefs； their perplexities。 She seemed； somehow； to understand in
some miraculous way； and to make the burden a welcome one。
〃Well； now； you tell Aunt Sophy all about it。 Stop crying； Della。
How can I hear when you're crying！ That's my baby。 Now； then。〃
This when they were children。 But with the years the habit clung and
became fixed。 There was something about Aunt Sophy's housethe old
frame house with the warty stucco porch。 For that matter； there was
something about the very shop downtown； with its workroom in the rear；
that had a cozy； homelike quality never possessed by the big Baldwin
house。 H。 Charnsworth Baldwin had built a large brick mansion； in the
Tudor style； on a bluff overlooking the Fox River； in the best residential
section of Chippewa。 It was expensively furnished。 The hall console
alone was enough to strike a preliminary chill to your heart。
The millinery workroom； winter days； was always bright and warm
and snug。 The air was a little close； perhaps； and heavy； but with a not
unpleasant smell of dyes and stuffs and velvet and glue and steam and
flatiron and a certain racy scent that Julia Gold； the head trimmer； always
used。 There was a sociable cat； white with a dark…gray patch on his
throat and a swipe of it across one flank that spoiled him for style and
beauty but made him a comfortable…looking cat to have around。
Sometimes； on very cold days； or in the rush season； the girls would not
go home to dinner； but would bring their lunches and cook coffee over a
little gas heater in the corner。 Juli