Summer Days

The rumble of voices which came from the kitchen was not disturbing, but
when the rural lovers began to sit on the piazza, directly under Ruth's
window, she felt called upon to remonstrate.

"Hepsey," she asked, one morning, "why don't you and Joe sit under the
trees at the side of the house? You can take your chairs out there."

"Miss Hathaway allerss let us set on the piazzer," returned Hepsey,
unmoved.

"Miss Hathaway probably sleeps more soundly than I do. You don't want me
to hear everything you say, do you?"

Hepsey shrugged her buxom shoulders. "You can if you like, mum."

"But I don't like," snapped Ruth. "It annoys me."

There was an interval of silence, then Hepsey spoke again, of her own
accord. "If Joe and me was to set anywheres but in front, he might see
the light."

"Well, what of it?"

"Miss Hathaway, she don't want it talked of, and men folks never can
keep secrets," Hepsey suggested.

"You wouldn't have to tell him, would you?"

"Yes'm. Men folks has got terrible curious minds. They're all right if
they don't know there's nothin', but if they does, why they's keen."

"Perhaps you're right, Hepsey," she replied, biting her lips. "Sit
anywhere you please."

There were times when Ruth was compelled to admit that Hepsey's mental
gifts were fully equal to her own. It was unreasonable to suppose, even
for an instant, that Joe and Hepsey had not pondered long and earnestly
upon the subject of the light in the attic window, yet the argument
was unanswerable. The matter had long since lost its interest for
Ruth--perhaps because she was too happy to care.