home is a place of perdition with that kind in it. But in a sense
William deserved what he got. He let her marry him."

"Oh, she didn't ask him!" Mrs. Burnham was from the North, and her
voice was astonished interrogation. "Surely she didn't ask him!"

"No. She made him ask her. Made him feel so sorry for her, cried over
herself and her loneliness so persistently that William, being a man,
walked in. Six weeks later they were married."

"I wonder if it was really true the way they say she used to do," and
Mrs. Tate, whose needle was now lost, was again fanning vigorously.

"What way?" Miss Gibbie turned so quickly toward her that Mrs. Tate
jumped.

"Why, I heard when she was first married that if she couldn't have just
what she wanted, or if Mr. Pryor did anything she didn't like, she
would lie flat down on her back and kick her heels on the floor so loud
you could hear it all over the house. I don't believe it was true."

"You don't? Well, it was, with this difference. When she wanted a thing
for herself, she lay on her back and kicked. When she wanted it for the
children, she lay on her stomach and cried. Either way she got what she
wanted."

The turkey-wing fan waved back and forth, then Miss Gibbie got up.
"This is dirty work we are doing. I prefer to make my remarks to
people's faces so they can remark back. And this isn't what I came to
this meeting for. I know the talk that has been going around lately