Page:Emily Climbs.pdf/283

“What exasperates me,” said Aunt Ruth, “is to think you told about it in Shrewsbury at all. Why on earth didn’t you keep it all quiet?”

“That would have been sly.” Emily’s demon suddenly prompted her to say this. Now that the story was out she felt a rebound of spirit that was almost laughter.

“Sly! It would have been common sense,” snorted Aunt Ruth. “But, of course, Ilse couldn’t hold her tongue. I’ve often told you, Emily, that a fool friend is ten times more dangerous than an enemy. But what are you killing yourself worrying for? Your conscience is clear. This gossip will soon die out.”

“Principal Hardy says I ought to resign from the presidency of the class,” said Emily.

“Jim Hardy! Why, his Father was a hired boy to my Grandfather for years,” said Aunt Ruth in tones of ineffable contempt. “Does Jim Hardy imagine that my niece would behave improperly?”

Emily felt herself all at sea. She thought she really must be dreaming. Was this incredible woman Aunt Ruth? It couldn’t be Aunt Ruth. Emily was up against one of the contradictions of human nature. She was learning that you may fight with your kin—disapprove of them—even hate them, but that there is a bond between you for all that. Somehow, your very nerves and sinews are twisted with theirs. Blood is always thicker than water. Let an outsider attack—that’s all. Aunt Ruth had at least one of the Murray virtues—loyalty to clan.

“Don’t worry over Jim Hardy,” said Aunt Ruth. “I’ll soon settle him. I'll teach people to keep their tongues off the Murrays.”

“But Mrs. Tolliver has asked me to let her cousin take my stall in the bazaar,” said Emily. “You know what that means.”

“I know that Polly Tolliver is an upstart and a fool,” retorted Aunt Ruth. “Ever since Nat Tolliver married his stenographer, St. John’s Church hasn’t been the same place. Ten years ago she was a barefooted girl running