"
Rilla went cold all over with wrath and shame. Were there any more
disgraceful scenes in her past that Susan could rake up? As for Ken, he
could have howled over Susan's speeches, but he would not so insult the
duenna of his lady, so he sat with a preternaturally solemn face which
seemed to poor Rilla a haughty and offended one.
"I paid eleven cents for a bottle of ink tonight," complained Susan.
"Ink is twice as high as it was last year. Perhaps it is because Woodrow
Wilson has been writing so many notes. It must cost him considerable. My
cousin Sophia says Woodrow Wilson is not the man she expected him to be
--but then no man ever was. Being an old maid, I do not know much about
men and have never pretended to, but my cousin Sophia is very hard on
them, although she married two of them, which you might think was a fair
share. Albert Crawford's chimney blew down in that big gale we had last
week, and when Sophia heard the bricks clattering on the roof she
thought it was a Zeppelin raid and went into hysterics. And Mrs. Albert
Crawford says that of the two things she would have preferred the
Zeppelin raid."
Rilla sat limply in her chair like one hypnotized. She knew Susan would
stop talking when she was ready to stop and that no earthly power could
make her stop any sooner. As a rule, she was very fond of Susan but just
now she hated her with a deadly hatred.
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