"Does it? I hadn't thought of that. I generally set in the chair
that's nearest the door; and I like one with arms that I can take
hold of, 'cause it makes me nervous to have the women stare at me,
and sometimes when there is such a long time between talks, I hold on
to the arm tight so's I won't show I'm nervous and wonderin' what to
say to fill in. But I didn't think any one noticed my hands." She
looked down at them rather sadly. "They've always worked hard and I
guess they show the marks."

"Oh, your hands are beautiful, Miss Doane. I can't ever believe you
have worked with them."

"Can't you? I never had my hands idle in my lap in all my life till
I come here. But--well, they ought to have something happen to 'em
the way Jane works with 'em. Whenever I let her she's fussin' with my
hands with little sticks and knives, until sometimes I'd like to box
her ears. How any one can spend so much time just settin' still and
lettin' some one fuss with their hands, I don't see. But I let her do
it, as I don't have much else to do here but just set still, and
she'd better fool with my hands than spend her time talkin' with
William, which she does enough as it is."

"Oh, is Jeanne flirting?"

"Now, I shouldn't say anything. But I can't help seein' things, even
if they do think I'm an old woman with my eyes half shut."

"I'll speak to Father about it."