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CHAPTER XX – A BITTER PILL

Dulcie’s tumultuous resentment of accusation had been heard throughout the Hall. More than one door opened along the second, third and fourth story halls as the shrill-sounding voice continued.

Among others, Jerry had gone to the door to ascertain what was happening in the house of such an unusual nature. Two or three moments of intent listening and she had returned to her chair before the center table.

“Why waste my good time listening to the far-off scrapping of the Sans?” she had lightly questioned. “There is some kind of row going on in Miss Cairns’ room. That’s the way it sounds to me. I can’t say who is giving the vocal performance. I don’t know the dear creatures well enough to tag that sweet voice. I could hear other doors besides ours open. We are not alone in our curiosity.”

“Your curiosity,” Marjorie had corrected. “I wasn’t enough interested to go to the door.” Marjorie had laughed teasingly.

“Stand corrected. My curiosity,” Jerry had obligingly answered. With that the subject had dropped as abruptly as the noise had begun.

The Sans were fortunate, in that the students residing at Wayland Hall, with the exception of themselves, were too fruitfully engaged in the minding of their own affairs to give more than a passing attention to the disturbance created by Dulcie Vale. Within the next two or three days they were agreeably surprised to find that no word of it had uttered on the campus.

“Has anyone said anything to you of Dulcie’s roars, howls and shrieks?” Leslie asked Natalie, half humorously. It was the fourth evening after the meeting in her room and the two were lounging in Natalie’s room doing a little studying and a good deal of talking.

“No. You can see for yourself what the girls in this house are; a mind-your-own-business crowd.” Natalie’s reply contained a certain amount of admiration. “If the story of it spreads over the campus, it will not be their fault. Sometimes I am sorry, Les, we didn’t go in for democracy from the first. We are cut out of a lot of good times by being so exclusive. Take this show that Miss Page and Miss Dean are going to give in the gym tomorrow night. Not one of the Sans was asked to be in it.”

“Hardly!” Leslie laughed and raised her eyebrows. “I can’t imagine Bean doing anything like that.”

“You needn’t make fun of me. We couldn’t expect to be asked to take part. I simply mentioned it as an example of the way things are. There is a great deal of sociability going on this year at Hamilton among the whole four classes, yet the Sans are as utterly out of it as can be,” Natalie complained with evident bitterness.

“Glad of it,” was the unperturbed retort. “Why yearn to be in a show, Nat, at this late stage of the game? Next winter, when you are in New York society, you’ll have plenty of opportunity for amateur theatricals.”

“Oh, I daresay I shall.” This did not console Natalie. Of all the Sans, she was the only one not satisfied with her lot. She would not have exchanged places with any student outside her own particular coterie. Still, she had dreamed from her freshman year of shining as a star in college theatricals. To her lasting disappointment, she had never been invited to take part in an entertainment. The Sans had neither the inclination nor the ability to engineer a play or revue. The democratic element at Hamilton did not require the Sans’ services.

“Are you going to that show?” Leslie cast a peculiar glance at her friend.

“I – well, yes; I bought a ticket.” Natalie appeared rather ashamed of the admission. “Did you buy one?” she hastily countered.

“Yes; two. Laura Sayres bought them for me. Humphrey has them for sale in her office. I asked Laura if everything were just the same with Matthews since that Miss Warner substituted for her. She said all was O. K. She has her files, letters and papers arranged so that no one could ever make trouble for her.”

“Too bad, Leslie, that Miss Warner was the one to substitute for Laura. It gave her a chance to meet Doctor Matthews. One never can tell what might develop from even so small an incident as that.” Natalie was not disposed to be reassuring that evening.

“Will you cut out croaking, Nat?” Leslie sprang from her chair and began a nervous pacing of the floor. “You might as well pour ice-water down the back of my neck. Enough annoying things have happened lately to worry me without having to reckon on what ‘might’ happen. I told Sayres to take good care of herself and try not to be away from her position again. I advised her, if ever she had to be away, even for a day, to supply her own sub. She should have had sense enough to do so the last time.”

“I am surprised that Miss Warner does secretarial work when that Miss Lynne she rooms with is wealthy in her own right,” commented Natalie.

“I suppose that green-eyed ice-berg wants to earn her own money. I made a mistake about Lynne. Her father is the richest man in the far west. My father told me so last summer. I always meant to tell you that and kept on forgetting it. He said then I ought to be friends with her, but I told him ‘nay, nay.’ She and I would be so pleased with each other.” Leslie smiled ironically.

“‘The richest man in the far west,’” repeated Natalie, her mind on that one enlightening sentence. “Too bad she isn’t our sort. We could ask her into the Sans in Dulcie’s place.”

“She wouldn’t leave Bean and Green-eyes and those two savages, Harding and Macy. I sometimes admire those two. They have so much nerve. Dulcie’s place will stay vacant. I wouldn’t ask Lola to join us after the way she has dropped me for Alida. As for Bess; she has yet to hear from me. I have an idea she and Dulc will get together. Dulc will tell her the news. Then Bess will sidle around me thinking she can get into the Sans. What? Watch my speed!” The corners of Leslie’s mouth went down contemptuously. She was a match for the self-seeking sophomore.

The next evening being that of the revue, Leslie and Natalie attended it together. The rest of the Sans had elected also to go to it. Leslie had advised against going in a body. “If we do, they’ll think we were anxious to see their old show,” she had argued. “We’d better scatter by twos and threes about the gym.”

By a quarter to eight the gymnasium was packed with students, faculty, and a goodly sprinkle of persons from the town of Hamilton who had friends among the students. Robin and Marjorie had worried for fear the programme might be too long. There would be sure to be encores. Their choice of talent, however, was so happy that the audience could not get enough of the various performers.

Marjorie was keyed up to the highest pitch of joy by the presence of Constance Stevens and Harriet Delaney. They had arrived from New York late that afternoon on purpose to take part in the show. While the wonder of Constance’s matchless high soprano notes in two grand opera selections awarded her a fury of applause, Harriet came in for her share of glory. It may be said that Constance and Veronica divided honors that evening.

Urged by Marjorie, Ronny had sent to Sanford for the black robe she used in the “Dance of the Night.” It had been in her room in Miss Archer’s house since the evening of the campfire three years before. Besides the “Dance of the Night” she gave a fine exhibition of Russian folk dancing in appropriate costume.

Marjorie had felt impelled to write Miss Susanna a special note of invitation inclosing several tickets. “Jonas or the maids might like our show, even if Miss Susanna won’t come. Of course she won’t, but I wanted her to have the tickets,” she had said to Jerry, who had agreed that her head was level and her heart in the right place as usual.

For the first time since the beginning of her hatred for Hamilton College, Miss Susanna had been sorely tempted to break her vow and attend the show. Realizing the sensation her presence on the campus would create, she quickly abandoned the impulse. She was half vexed with Marjorie for sending her tickets and made note to warn her never to send any more.

Of all the audience, those most impressed by performance and performers were the Sans. While they enjoyed the revue, girl-fashion, as a spectacle, the knowledge of the enemy’s triumph was hard to swallow. Ronny’s dancing was a revelation to them, astonishing and bitter. As each number appeared, perfect in its way, the realization of the cleverness of the girls they had affected to despise came home as a sharp thrust.

Leslie Cairns was particularly disgruntled as she hurried Natalie from the gymnasium and into the cold clear December night.

“Don’t talk to me, Nat,” she warned. “I am so upset I feel like howling my head off. The way Beanie has come to the front is a positive crime. Did you see her marching around the gym tonight as though she owned it?”

“It was a good show,” Natalie ventured.

“Entirely too good,” grumbled Leslie. “I don’t like to talk of it. Did I mention that Bess wrote me a note. She wants to see me about something very important.” Leslie placed satirical stress on the last three words. “She may see me but she won’t be pleased. I’m in a very bad humor tonight. I shall be in a worse one tomorrow.”

CHAPTER XXI – “DISPOSING” OF BESS

Leslie’s ominous prediction regarding herself was not idle. She awoke the next morning signally out of sorts. Though she had declared to Natalie she did not care to discuss the revue, when she arrived at the Hall she had changed her mind. She had invited Natalie into her room for a “feed.” The two had gorged themselves on French crullers, assorted chocolates and strong tea. Nor did they retire until almost midnight.

Leslie greeted the light of day with a sour taste in her mouth and a desire to snap at her best friend, were that unlucky person to appear on her immediate horizon. She had thought herself fairly well prepared in psychology for the morning recitation. Instead she could not remember definitely enough of what she had studied the afternoon before to make a lucid recitation. This did not tend to render her more amiable. She prided herself particularly on her progress in the study of psychology and was inwardly furious at her failure.

Exiting from Science Hall that afternoon, the first person her eyes came to rest upon was Elizabeth Walbert. She stood at one side of the broad stone flight of steps eagerly watching the main entrance to the building.

“Oh, there you are!” she hailed. “I have been waiting quite a while for you.”

“That’s too bad.” It was impossible to gauge Leslie’s exact humor from the reply. Her answers to impersonal remarks so often verged on insolence.

“So I thought,” pertly retorted the other girl. At the same time she furtively inspected Leslie.

“What is it now? You make me think of that old story of the ‘Flounder’ in ‘Grimms’ Fairy Tales.’ You are like the fisherman’s wife who was always asking favors of the flounder. We will assume that I am the flounder.”

“How do you know that I wish to ask a favor?” Elizabeth colored hotly at the insinuation. She put on an injured expression, her lips slightly pouted.

“I’m a mind reader,” was the laconic reply.

“Hm! Suppose I were to ask you to do something for me? Haven’t you said lots of times that I could rely on you?” persisted Elizabeth. “I don’t understand you, Leslie. You are so sweet to me at times and so horrid at others.”

“You’ll understand me better after today,” came the significant assurance. “Come on. We will walk across the campus to your house.”

“Why not yours?” Elizabeth demanded in patent disappointment. “I see enough of Alston Terrace. I’d rather go with you to Wayland Hall. Your nice room is a fine place for a confidential chat.”

“You won’t see the inside of it this P.M. I am not going into the house when we come to Alston Terrace. I have a severe headache and choose to stay out in the open air. It’s a fair day, and not cold enough to bar a walk on the campus.”

“Very well.” Elizabeth sighed and looked patient. “I hope we don’t meet any of the girls. I have a private matter to discuss with you.”

“Go ahead and discuss it,” imperturbably ordered Leslie.

“Why – you – perhaps, if you have a headache, I had better wait until another time,” deprecated the sophomore. It occurred to her that she ought to pretend solicitude. “I am so sorry,” she hastily condoled.

“Thank you. There is no ‘if’ about my headache. Get that straight. What? It won’t hinder me from listening to you. Let’s hear your remarks now and have them over with.”

“I have seen Dulcie,” began Elizabeth impressively, “and she has told me what happened the other night. Really, Leslie, I was shocked, simply shocked. Yet I couldn’t blame you in the least. The way Dulcie has talked about you on the campus is disgraceful. But I went over all that with you the day I first told you of how treacherous she had been.”

“Quite true. You did, indeed,” Leslie conceded with pleasant irony. “Now proceed. What next?”

“You are so funny, Leslie. You are so deliciously matter-of-fact.” Elizabeth was hoping the compliment would restore the difficult senior to a more equitable frame of mind.

“You may not always appreciate my matter-of-fact manner.” The ghost of a smile, cruel in its vagueness, touched Leslie’s lips.

“Oh, I am sure I shall. To go back to Dulcie, I hope you didn’t mention my name the other night. You promised you wouldn’t.”

“Is that what you have been so anxious to tell me?” Leslie asked the question with exaggerated weariness, eyes turned indifferently away from her companion.

“No; it is not.” Elizabeth shot an exasperated glance at her. “I merely mentioned it. Dulcie tried to make me take the blame for it the first time I met her after the meeting. I simply told her I had nothing to do with it whatever.”

Leslie sniffed audible contempt at this information. “Let me say this: Dulcie herself mentioned your name, or rather she screamed it out at the top of her voice the other night. The rest of us said nothing. I made the charges against Dulcie and mentioned no names.”

“I wish I had been there.” A wolfish light flashed into the wide, babyish blue eyes. “It must have been quite a party. Leslie,” Elizabeth decided that the time had come to speak for herself, “you said once that I couldn’t be a member of the Sans because there was no vacancy; that the club must be kept to the number of eighteen. There is a vacancy now. The club has only seventeen members. Why can’t I fill that vacancy and become the eighteenth member? I don’t mind because it will be only for the rest of this year. I shall count it an honor to have been a Sans even that long. I will certainly make a more loyal Sans than Dulcie was.”

Leslie drew a long breath. The wished-for moment had come. She was in fine fettle to deliver to the ambitious climber the “turn-down” she had earned.

“Why can’t you become a member of the Sans?” she asked, then drew back her head and indulged in soundless laughter. “Do you think it would make you very happy to join us?”

“You may better believe it,” Elizabeth made flippant reply. More seriously, she added: “You know how my heart has been set upon it from the very first.”

“Yes, I know. The fact of the matter is,” Leslie measured each word, “there is one great drawback to your joining.”

“If it is about money, I am sure my father has as much as the fathers of the other members,” cut in Elizabeth. “Our social position in New York is – ”

“All that has nothing to do with the drawback I mentioned.” Leslie waved away Elizabeth’s attempt at defending her position. They were not more than half way across the campus, but Leslie was tired of keeping up the suspense of the moment. Her head ached violently. She was so utterly disgusted with the other girl she could have cheerfully pummeled her.

“Then I don’t quite understand – ” began Elizabeth.

“You’re going to – at once. We dropped one girl from the Sans for being a liar and a gossip. What would be the use in filling her place with another liar and gossip. That’s the drawback. It applies strictly to you.”

Leslie stopped short in her walk and faced her companion, her heavy features a study in malignant contempt. Elizabeth’s eyes widened involuntarily this time. She could not believe the evidence of her own ears. Her moment of stupefaction gave Leslie the very opportunity to continue and finish her remarks before the other had time for angry defense.

“You would have been nothing socially on the campus if I hadn’t taken you up,” she said forcefully. “The other girls in my club, it is my club, didn’t like you. I had a good many quarrels with a number of them for trying to stand up for you, you worthless little schemer. If you had had one shred of principle or gratitude in your deceitful composition, you would have come to me at once with the first story against the club which Dulc told you. But you did not. You simply gossiped all she said to you to other students on the campus. Dulcie told you things about us that were ridiculous. You not only listened to them. You repeated them, making them worse.

“I had heard of your tactics before I sent for you to ask you about Dulc. I wanted to pump you and hear what you had to offer. I made it my business afterward to look up your record as a tale-bearer. Some little record! I know exactly to whom you have talked and what you have circulated concerning the Sans. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Such ingrates as you have no sense of shame. Now, I believe, you understand why the Sans don’t care to put you in Dulcie’s place. It would merely be a case of out of the frying pan into the fire. Of the two, you are worse than Dulc. She is a liar, but stupid. You are a liar and tricky.”

“Don’t you dare call me a story-teller again,” burst forth Elizabeth in a fury.

“I didn’t say story-teller. I said liar. I never mince matters. I’ve said that to you before.” Leslie stood smiling at the culprit, the soul of mockery.

“You won’t be at Hamilton long enough to insult me ever again, Leslie Cairns,” threatened Elizabeth, a world of vindictiveness in every word. “I don’t believe you, when you say that Dulcie hasn’t told the truth. I guess Dulcie knows enough that is true to make it very uncomfortable for you. I’ll help her do it, too. No one can speak to me as you have and expect I won’t get even.”

“Try it,” challenged Leslie. “Unless you have Dulcie to back you you can’t prove one single thing against our record at Hamilton. Dulcie doesn’t care to make trouble for herself. You couldn’t get her to go with you to headquarters. She has either to be graduated from college with a fair rating or fall into a bushel of trouble with her father. Let me give you and Dulc both a last piece of advice. You’ll tell her all about this, of course, only you will be careful not to mention wanting her place in the club. Keep a brake on those mill-clapper tongues of yours for the rest of the year.”

Without giving Elizabeth time for another outburst of wrath, Leslie wheeled and started away at double quick. The other girl forgot dignity entirely and pursued the senior, talking shrilly as she ran. She might as well have pursued a fleeing shadow. Leslie set her jaw and increased her pace. The enraged sophomore kept up the chase for a matter of yards, then stopped. Placing her hands to her mouth, trumpet fashion, she hurled after Leslie one pithy threat: “You’ll be sorry.”

CHAPTER XXII – PLANNING FOR THE FUTURE

The approach of the Christmas holidays called a halt in the internal war which raged between the Sans and their two betrayers. Having delivered her ultimatum to Elizabeth Walbert, Leslie promptly proceeded to forget her, so far as she could. As a result of the tactics she had pursued with both Dulcie and Elizabeth, she was more at ease than for a long time. She was confident she had bullied both to a point where they would hesitate before doing any more idle talking about the Sans’ misdemeanors. Every day which passed over her head without mishap to herself was one day nearer Commencement and freedom. She had no regret for her misdeeds. She was merely in fear lest they might be brought to light.

She had lost all interest in leadership at Hamilton. Her one idea now was to end her college course creditably and thus earn her father’s approval. Natalie Weyman was on better terms with her than were the other Sans. They found her moody indifference harder to combat than her bullying. She was interested in nothing the club did or wished to do. “Go as far as you like, but let me alone,” became her pet answer to her chums’ appeals for advice or an expression of opinion.

“The Sans have become so exclusive they’ve nearly effaced themselves from the college map,” Jerry remarked to Marjorie several days after their return from the Christmas vacation at home.

“They have had to settle down and do some studying, I presume,” was Marjorie’s opinion. “They used to be out evenings a good deal oftener than ever we were. I’ve wondered how they kept up at all.”

“Leila said that Miss Vale had been conditioned two or three times, and had to hire a tutor to help pull her through. I notice she doesn’t go around with any of the Sans. You remember I spoke of her having changed her seat at table the next day after that fuss up in Miss Cairns’ room.”

“I have seen her with Miss Walbert a good deal lately. It seems odd, Jeremiah, that, after all the trouble we had with those girls as freshies and sophs, we should be almost free of them this year. It has been such a beautiful, peaceful year, thus far. We’ve had the gayest, happiest kind of times. If only we could keep Leila, Vera, Kathie and Helen with us next year everything would be perfect.”

“Would it? Well, I rather guess so. Gives me the blues every time I stop to think about losing them. Just when we are traveling along so pleasantly, too. Here we are, victorious democrats. We know Miss Susanna, even if we don’t dare boast of it. We’ve been entertained at Hamilton Arms; something President Matthews can’t say. You and Robin are successful theatrical managers. Oh, I can tell you, everything is upward striving.

“’Tis as easy now for hearts to be true,

As for grass to be green and skies to be blue.

’Tis the natural way of living”

gayly quoted Marjorie, patting Jerry’s plump shoulder in her walk across the room to find a pencil she had mislaid.

“I wish we would hear from Miss Susanna,” she continued, a little wistful note in the utterance. “Perhaps she did not like our Christmas remembrance. She doesn’t like birthday observances. She loves flowers, though. So she couldn’t really regard those we sent her as a present. And that letter was delightful, I thought. We may have made a mistake in sending the wreath.”

The letter to which Marjorie referred was a composite. Each of the nine girls had contributed a paragraph. They had tucked it into a box of long-stemmed red roses which they had selected as a Yule-tide offering to the last of the Hamiltons. With it had gone a laurel wreath, to which was attached a large bunch of double, purple violets. They had asked that the wreath be hung in Brooke Hamilton’s study above the oblong which contained the founder’s sayings.

“I don’t believe Miss Susanna is on her ear at us,” observed Jerry inelegantly. “She will write when she feels like it. Maybe she thought it better to postpone writing until she was sure we were all back at college after Christmas. When did you last hear from her?”

“Not since she sent me the money for the tickets for the show. I bought those tickets for her myself. She didn’t understand, I guess. I re-mailed the money to her, explaining that they were from me. Since then I have heard not a word from her. I should have taken the tickets back to her instead of mailing them, but I was so busy just then. Besides, I don’t like to go to the Arms without a special invitation.”

Almost incident with Marjorie’s worry over Miss Susanna’s silence came a note from her new friend, appointing an evening for her to dine at Hamilton Arms.

“I am not asking your friends this time,” the old lady wrote, “as I prefer to devote my attention to you, dear child. I could not answer the Christmas letter for I had no medium of expression. I loved it, and the flowers. Best of all, was the honor you did Uncle Brooke. You may show this letter to your friends, extending to them a crabbed old person’s sincere thanks and good wishes.”

Marjorie kept her dinner appointment with Miss Susanna and spent a happy evening with the old lady. Miss Hamilton showed active interest in the subject of the recent revue. The obliging lieutenant had brought with her a programme which the old lady insisted in going over, number by number, inquiring about each performer. She expressed a wish to hear Constance Stevens sing and asked Marjorie to bring Constance to Hamilton Arms if she should again come to Hamilton College.

“I was truly sorry to have missed that show,” the last of the Hamiltons frankly confessed. “It would never do for me to set foot on that campus. I should be on bad terms with myself forever after; on as bad terms as I am with the college.”

“I’ll tell you what we might do, Miss Hamilton,” Marjorie ventured. “We could give a stunt party here, just for you, at some time when it pleased you to have us here. Perhaps Constance would come from New York for a day or two. She isn’t so far away. Then Ronny and Vera would dance and Leila sings the most charming ancient Celtic songs.”

Her lovely face had grown radiant as she described her chums’ talents, and again, for her sake, Miss Susanna had softened toward all girlhood. She had assented with only half-concealed eagerness to Marjorie’s plan.

Two days after Marjorie’s visit to her, she sent her a check for five hundred dollars, asking that it be placed with the money earned from the revue. The youthful managers had charged a dollar apiece for tickets with no reservations. To their intense joy and amusement, the gross receipts amounted to six hundred and seventy-two dollars. Their only expenses being for printing and lighting the gymnasium, they had, counting Miss Susanna’s gift, a little over one thousand dollars with which to start the beneficiary fund.

Anna Towne had done good work among the girls off the campus. Due to her efforts they had been brought to look upon the new avenue of escape from signal discomfort, now open to them, as an opportunity to be embraced. Marjorie had said conclusively that the funds at their disposal were to be given, not lent. She argued on the basis that money thus easily gained should be distributed where it would benefit most, then be forgotten. The girls who were struggling along to put themselves through college would have enough to do to earn their living afterward without stepping over the threshold of their chosen work saddled with an obligation.

It took tact, delicacy and more than one friendly argument to establish this theory among the sensitive, proud-spirited girls for whose benefit the project had been carried out. Gradually it gained ground and a new era of things began to spring up for those who had sacrificed so much for the sake of the higher education. The money so easily earned by Ronny’s nimble feet, Constance’s sweet singing and the talent of the other performers revolutionized matters in the row of cheerless houses, in one of which Anne Towne resided. Ability to pay a higher rate for board brought better food and heat. The drudgery of laundering was lifted, the work being intrusted to several capable laundresses in the vicinity. Those who had kept house abandoned cooking and took their meals at one or another of the boarding houses. According to Anna Towne, the restfulness of the changed way of living was unbelievable.

As successful theatrical managers, Robin and Marjorie had rosy visions of a dormitory built where several of the dingy boarding houses now stood. Perhaps by next year they would have the means to buy the properties. They purposed agitating the subject so strongly, during their senior year, that, at least, a few of the students among the other three classes would be willing to go on with the work.

Both had agreed that they had set themselves a hard row to hoe, yet neither would have relinquished the self-imposed task. In the first flush of their ambition they had asked Miss Humphrey to ascertain, if she could, whether the regulations of the college forbade the erection of more houses on the campus. She had returned the answer, that, owing to a peculiar will left by Mr. Brooke Hamilton, the consent to build on the campus would have to come from Miss Hamilton, who had been prejudiced against Hamilton College for many years.

This was a disturbing revelation to Marjorie. She was fairly certain that Miss Susanna would never give any such consent. She therefore promptly abandoned the idea and laid her plans for the outside territory.

As the winter winged away Marjorie made more than one visit to Hamilton Arms. Occasionally her chums accompanied her. The Nine Travelers gave their stunt party at the Arms on Saint Valentine’s eve. To please their lonely hostess they dressed in the costumes they intended wearing at the masquerade the next evening. Constance and Harriet managed to get away from the conservatory for three days, and a merry party ate a six o’clock dinner with Miss Susanna so as to have plenty of time for the stunts afterward.

Discreet to the letter, their visits to Hamilton Arms were known to no one outside their own group. Over and over again, when alone with the old lady, she would say to Marjorie: “I had no idea girls could be honorable. I had always considered boys far more honest and loyal.”

“You and Miss Susanna Hamilton are getting very chummy, aren’t you?” greeted Jerry, as Marjorie sauntered into their room one clear frosty evening in March, after having had tea at Hamilton Arms.

“I don’t know whether we are or not.” A tiny pucker decorated Marjorie’s forehead. “I always feel a little uncertain of how to take her. She is kindness itself, then, all of a sudden, she turns crotchety and says she hates everything and everybody. Then she generally adds, ‘Don’t take that to yourself, child.’”