You
could call it a trial month, if you liked. You could see how you
liked us, you know. At the end of that time," with a smile, "you
might tell us we wouldn't do at all, or, perhaps, then you might
consider making a more permanent arrangement. Barbara would like
it here, wouldn't you, dear?"
Barbara, who had been listening, nodded excitedly from the big
rocker. "Ever and ever so much," she declared; "and Petunia would
just adore it."
Poor Jed was greatly perturbed. "Don't talk so, Mrs. Armstrong,"
he blurted. "Please don't. I--I don't want you to. You--you make
me feel bad."
"Do I? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say anything to hurt your
feelings. I beg your pardon."
"No, you don't. I--I mean you hadn't ought to. You don't hurt my
feelin's; I mean you make me feel bad--wicked--cussed mean--all
that and some more. I know I ought to let you have this house.
Any common, decent man with common decent feelin's and sense would
let you have it. But, you see, I ain't that kind. I--I'm selfish
and--and wicked and--" He waved a big hand in desperation.
She laughed. "Nonsense!" she exclaimed. "Besides, it isn't so
desperate as all that. You certainly are not obliged to rent the
house unless you want to."
"But I do want to; that is, I don't, but I know I'd ought to want
to. And if I was goin' to let anybody have it I'd rather 'twould
be you--honest, I would.
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