"
Primmie's grin extended from ear to ear.
"You bet you it's right for one of us, Miss Martha," she declared.
"And you ain't the one, neither. My Lord of Isrul, if I don't feel some
better'n I did when I come into this room! Whew! My savin' soul! Zach
Bloomer he says to me this mornin'. 'What's the matter, Posy?' he says.
'Seems to me you look sort of wilted lately. You better brace up,' he
says, 'or folks'll be callin' you a faded flower.' 'Well,' says I, 'I
may be faded, but there's one old p'ison ivy around here that's fresh
enough to make up.' Oh, I squashed HIM all righty, but I never took no
comfort out of doin' it. I ain't took no comfort for the last two, three
days. But now--Whew!"
The letter to Cousin Gussie was written that very afternoon. Mr. Bangs
wrote it, with helpful suggestions, many of them, from Miss Phipps. At
Martha's suggestion the envelope was marked "Personal."
"I suppose it is foolish of me," she said, "but somehow I hate to have
my affairs talked all over that office. Even when I was a little girl,
and things went wrong in school, I used to save up my cryin' until I got
home. I'm the same now. This Development Company milk is spilled, and,
whether any of it can be saved or not, there is no use callin' a crowd
to look at the puddle. If your cousin thinks it's necessary to tell
other Boston folks, I presume he will, but WE won't tell anybody but
him.
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