She was not afraid of
despair--its manifestations were familiar to her, and she had usually
found them amenable to the laws of propriety. But she felt vaguely that
happiness in some mysterious way was related to sin, and the shameless
ecstasy with which Abel had announced his engagement to Molly had
branded his emotion as positively immoral in her sight. "No decent
feelin' is goin' to make anybody's face shine like a brass plate," she
had said to herself.
After straightening the crocheted mats for the last time, she went
downstairs to the kitchen to describe the wedding to the two old
people, who, chained to their chairs by rheumatism, were on the point of
bursting with curiosity.
"An' you didn't bring me so much as a bite of cake," whimpered
grandmother, seeing her empty hands. "Here I've been settin' all day in
this cheer with my mouth waterin' for that weddin' cake."
"I'm just as sure as I can be that Mrs. Hatch is goin' to send you some
made by Blossom," replied Sarah soothingly.
"Ah, to think of Abel bein' at his own weddin' an' we settin' here,"
piped grandfather. "'Twas a hasty business, but we Revercombs were
al'ays the folk to swallow our puddin' while 'twas smokin' an' then cry
out that we didn't know 'twas hot.
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