forehead.
“Will you miss me?” she asked.
Sally, in whose heart was room for nothing but kindness, held her beautiful sister in her arms and replied, “Miss you, dear. It’ll be a double graveyard with you and Mother gone.”
Leora paused.
“Mother’s better off, Sally. I paid her funeral expenses yesterday.” She went to her purse and brought Sally the undertaker’s receipt. “She has a little stone over her, and you can plant flowers on her grave every year.” She looked at the pictures of actresses in her trunk— “She’ll have no more babies, and no more meals to cook. She was even lucky in being buried away over in the corner under that big oak.” She looked sternly at her sister, “And for God’s sake, Sally, don’t be a brood mare for any damn man in this town.”
“I won’t,” said Sally. “I won’t have time till these kids grow up.”
“My God—I never thought of that, Sally.”
“I’m happier doing it—the poor little snotty-nosed things. It’s not their fault, or father’s either.”
Leora looked in amazement at Sally. She had never heard her speak so frankly before. Sally surprised Leora again with, “Aunt was right when she said that both dad and mother were like doorbells—if somebody pushed them, they rang—and now the house is full of kids, and Mother’s dead, and Dad might as well be.”
“But I’ll help with the kids, Sally,” Leora promised.
“If you do, or don’t, it’s all right, dear—and if you ever need me, let me know.” Sally looked with admiration at the lithe body of her sister, the perfectly chiseled face, the well-rounded breasts, and her hair in brown waves falling.
“We’ll make out some way, Leora, just hoe your own row, and, if you get tired, come home. I’ll wait on you.” Sally, more moved than usual, still looked at Leora. “Even when I was a little bit of a kid, Lee, I tried to protect you. The Lord knows you didn’t need it—but you just seemed like a flower and I was always afraid some one’d step on you. I even felt that way about Buddy.” Sally stopped— “But he was a good kid too—I wonder where he is?”
“I’d give anything to know,” said the lovely Leora— ”He was a good kid—remember, Sally, when some one stole our sled, how he hunted all Saturday and Sunday for it—and then Dad licked him because he didn’t get home in time to take Mother to the picture show.” Leora went to the mirror, while Sally busied herself with the trunk. Suddenly Sally said, and her voice was slightly thicker,
“I just want you to promise one thing, Leora—that you’ll write to me once a month—it won’t need to be much; you can just say ‘hello’ and ‘good-bye’ for all I care—I like you a whole lot, and I always have—and don’t want the other kids to ever forget they’ve got such a nice sister.”
Leora turned from the mirror, “I’ll promise to write once a month—maybe more—and I won’t forget the kids.”
Sally put her arms around Leora. “No don’t, Leora, please,” she said, “it’s not their fault they’re here. We’ve got to give them an even chance with every other kid; then maybe they’ll get somewhere.”
“I don’t know,” returned Leora. “Aunt says there never was a right Blair and she’s one—look at our father.”
“Aunt’s wrong,” said Sally vehemently. “I’m only a kid, but I can prove it out of my school books—we don’t know what these kids will be—how can anyone explain how beautiful you are?”
“Mother was a nice-looking girl,” said Leora, turning to the mirror, “and Aunt’s still good-looking.”
“But neither of them ever had your looks.” Sally’s voice rose, “And, Leora, it will be a lot of fun just watching these kids grow up.” She looked about the house as if they were present. “Look at little Denny—don’t you think he’s cute, Leora, the funny little nose and the square little teeth; look how he runs after you when you start
“Will you miss me?” she asked.
Sally, in whose heart was room for nothing but kindness, held her beautiful sister in her arms and replied, “Miss you, dear. It’ll be a double graveyard with you and Mother gone.”
Leora paused.
“Mother’s better off, Sally. I paid her funeral expenses yesterday.” She went to her purse and brought Sally the undertaker’s receipt. “She has a little stone over her, and you can plant flowers on her grave every year.” She looked at the pictures of actresses in her trunk— “She’ll have no more babies, and no more meals to cook. She was even lucky in being buried away over in the corner under that big oak.” She looked sternly at her sister, “And for God’s sake, Sally, don’t be a brood mare for any damn man in this town.”
“I won’t,” said Sally. “I won’t have time till these kids grow up.”
“My God—I never thought of that, Sally.”
“I’m happier doing it—the poor little snotty-nosed things. It’s not their fault, or father’s either.”
Leora looked in amazement at Sally. She had never heard her speak so frankly before. Sally surprised Leora again with, “Aunt was right when she said that both dad and mother were like doorbells—if somebody pushed them, they rang—and now the house is full of kids, and Mother’s dead, and Dad might as well be.”
“But I’ll help with the kids, Sally,” Leora promised.
“If you do, or don’t, it’s all right, dear—and if you ever need me, let me know.” Sally looked with admiration at the lithe body of her sister, the perfectly chiseled face, the well-rounded breasts, and her hair in brown waves falling.
“We’ll make out some way, Leora, just hoe your own row, and, if you get tired, come home. I’ll wait on you.” Sally, more moved than usual, still looked at Leora. “Even when I was a little bit of a kid, Lee, I tried to protect you. The Lord knows you didn’t need it—but you just seemed like a flower and I was always afraid some one’d step on you. I even felt that way about Buddy.” Sally stopped— “But he was a good kid too—I wonder where he is?”
“I’d give anything to know,” said the lovely Leora— ”He was a good kid—remember, Sally, when some one stole our sled, how he hunted all Saturday and Sunday for it—and then Dad licked him because he didn’t get home in time to take Mother to the picture show.” Leora went to the mirror, while Sally busied herself with the trunk. Suddenly Sally said, and her voice was slightly thicker,
“I just want you to promise one thing, Leora—that you’ll write to me once a month—it won’t need to be much; you can just say ‘hello’ and ‘good-bye’ for all I care—I like you a whole lot, and I always have—and don’t want the other kids to ever forget they’ve got such a nice sister.”
Leora turned from the mirror, “I’ll promise to write once a month—maybe more—and I won’t forget the kids.”
Sally put her arms around Leora. “No don’t, Leora, please,” she said, “it’s not their fault they’re here. We’ve got to give them an even chance with every other kid; then maybe they’ll get somewhere.”
“I don’t know,” returned Leora. “Aunt says there never was a right Blair and she’s one—look at our father.”
“Aunt’s wrong,” said Sally vehemently. “I’m only a kid, but I can prove it out of my school books—we don’t know what these kids will be—how can anyone explain how beautiful you are?”
“Mother was a nice-looking girl,” said Leora, turning to the mirror, “and Aunt’s still good-looking.”
“But neither of them ever had your looks.” Sally’s voice rose, “And, Leora, it will be a lot of fun just watching these kids grow up.” She looked about the house as if they were present. “Look at little Denny—don’t you think he’s cute, Leora, the funny little nose and the square little teeth; look how he runs after you when you start
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