Calvin had drawn rein and sat on his horse in the road. He was trying
to picture Hannah standing in the door waiting for him, to hear her
calling him from work; but always Phebe intervened with her travesty of
Hannah's clear loveliness.

IV

Again at the Braleys' he found the family--in the kitchen--listening
with absorbed interest to Phebe's stories of life and the stage.
Richmond Braley sat with an undisguised wonderment and frequent
exclamations; there was a faint flush in Mrs. Braley's dun cheeks;
Susan tried without success to strangle her coughing. Only Hosmer was
unmoved; at times he nodded in recognition of the realities of Phebe's
narratives; his attitude was one of complacent understanding.

Calvin, at last succeeding in catching Hannah's attention, made a
suggestive gesture toward the front of the house, but she ignored his
desire. She, more than any of the others, was intent upon Phebe. And he
realized that Phebe paid her a special attention.

"My," she exclaimed, "the healthy life has put you in the front row.
Ned Higmann would rave about your shape and airs. It's too bad to bury
them here in the mountains. I reckon you love me for that"--she turned
cheerfully to Calvin--"but it's the truth. If you could do anything at
all, Hannah, you'd lead a chorus and go in the olio. And you would draw
at the stage door better than you would on the front. Young and fresh
as a daisy spells champagne and diamond garters. I don't believe they'd
let you stay in burlesque but sign you for comic opera."