It might be awkward.
Barbara didn’t notice her hesitation. “That’s the answer,” she bubbled happily. “I know Bob would object if I wanted to go alone. But he can’t say anything if I ask him to go along to take care of me. Can he?”
“No. I suppose not.” Ethel’s mind worked frantically as she sought for some reasonable excuse to leave Robert at home.
“I’m afraid... you see, I want you to visit me,” she stammered, “and I just don’t think we’d have room to put Bob up too.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Barbara assured her. “He can stay at a hotel. I think that would really be more proper anyway,” she added primly.
“Yes,” Ethel agreed. “I suppose it would be more proper.” She tried to hide her scorn. Barbara’s ideas of propriety were so quaint. “But it’s terribly hard to find a room at a hotel,” she said swiftly. “Everything’s reserved during Mardi Gras.”
“I’m sure Bob could find a room somewhere,” Barbara said serenely.
“But... but what about his Cousin Harriet?” Ethel asked desperately. “She’d be sure to want to tag along too.”
“Cousin Hattie?” Barbara laughed delightedly. “She wouldn’t go for a million dollars,” she assured Ethel. “She’d blush for weeks at the very thought of going to Mardi Gras.”
“She sticks right by Robert’s side every time I see him,” Ethel said venomously. “It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she insisted on going if he goes.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t,” Barbara said gayly. “Though I will ask her. Everything you’ve said about my needing Mardi Gras applies about a hundred times more to Hattie. She must be forty, and I don’t think she’s laughed during the last twenty years.”
“She’d want to reform New Orleans,” Ethel said. “I bet she’d die of sheer fright if some masked man dragged her into a dance.”
“Well, I’m going to ask Bob,” Barbara said resolutely. “And he can bring Cousin Hattie if he wants to. I shan’t let her spoil my fun.”
“You’ll regret it,” Ethel told her pessimistically. She wanted to say more to discourage Barbara, but she didn’t dare. She had just been won over to consider the visit at all. A wrong move now would spoil everything.
But Robert would spoil it too, she thought angrily. She had to choke back a laugh as she envisioned Robert and his Cousin Harriet trying to get into the spirit of Mardi Gras. It just wouldn’t do.
“Perhaps Robert won’t go,” Ethel said slowly. “He’ll probably consider it all the sheerest nonsense, and refuse to have any part in it.”
“Oh no. He won’t refuse me. I’ll make him see how much it means to both of us. And this is just the best season for a little vacation from the farm. I know he’ll go if I ask him.”
“All right, Babs. You know best.” Ethel spoke resignedly.
“Come on.” Barbara jumped up and tugged at Ethel’s arm. “I’ll go ask mom while I’m all keyed up about it. She’ll think I’m insane... but she’ll have to let me go... and dad will if she does.”
“All right.” Ethel arose and followed her uncertainly from the room. She had a funny feeling that things wouldn’t work out as smoothly as Barbara buoyantly predicted. But she kept this thought strictly to herself as Barbara preceded her to the cool living room where Mrs. Dorn was engaged with some mending.
Chapter Two
“Oh mom!” Barbara called gayly. Then she hesitated in the doorway and Ethel saw her shoulders straighten a trifle. “Oh! I didn’t know you were here, Cousin Hattie.”
“Come in, dear.” Mrs. Dorn’s voice was plaintively agreeable. “What have you two girls been doing with yourselves?” she asked placidly as Barbara caught Ethel’s hand to squeeze it quickly before entering the room.
“We’ve been making plans.” Her voice was more decided and less gay than it had been before she discovered Hattie.
She and Ethel entered to be greeted sternly by Cousin Hattie. Hattie was always stern. She had Principles... and Morals. A tall, gaunt woman, with thin hands and a faintly yellowish complexion. She wore a severe black dress which buttoned up the front tightly to her neck.
She had kept house for Robert and his father since Mrs. Sutler had died in Robert’s infancy. She thought it her Duty. And her feeling of Duty had held her at the farm to care for Robert when his father died. She had never married... because of her feeling of Duty... as she often sternly boasted.
Barbara had always been just a tiny bit afraid of Hattie. Her eyes were cold, and she was not one to mince words when her sense of Duty called upon her to point out the Path of Righteousness to those who did not conform to her narrow ideals.
There had been a growing feeling of antagonism between Barbara and Hattie since Robert had announced his engagement to her. Barbara knew that Hattie thought she was too frivolous to make Robert a good wife. She knew this because Hattie had told her so... lengthily and with no quibbling.
Barbara always tried to be pleasant to her, though it was sometimes quite a strain to do so.
“How are you this afternoon, Cousin Hattie?” she asked as she and Ethel found seats on the old lounge on the other side of the room.
“As well as may be, I suppose.” Hattie sniffed... three times in rapid succession. She always sniffed three times when anyone inquired about her health.
“That’s nice... Robert didn’t come with you, did he?” Barbara strove to keep the conversation going while her mother’s needle flashed industriously and Ethel moved restlessly.
“Of course not!” Hattie snapped. Her nose wriggled dolefully. “Though he’ll be along in a minute, I’ll be bound,” she went on. “I often tell him I don’t know what’ll happen to his dear father’s farm, what with him traipsing over here to make lovesick eyes at you with every turn of the clock.” She sniffed again... very audibly.
“I don’t think Bob neglects the farm for me.” Barbara smiled at her. She was determined to pay no heed to Hattie.
“Mom,” she said, turning to her mother. “I want to ask you something.”
“Very well, dear.” Mrs. Dorn did not look up from her sewing.
“Ethel wants me to visit her next Sunday.” Barbara kept her eyes resolutely turned from Hattie’s face. “She’s going home tomorrow, and she’s just been begging me to come in Sunday to stay for a few days. Would you mind?” She bent forward eagerly, her hands clasped and her body tensed.
“So that’s what you two’ve been cooking up?”
“Uh-huh.” Barbara laughed happily. Her mother’s voice had been indulgent. That meant she would let her go. She felt Hattie’s glance of stern disapproval, but she would not look at her. “Do you mind, mom?” she asked breathlessly.
“Well, now, I... I’m sure I don’t know,” Mrs. Dorn said slowly. She bent over her sewing, and her face puckered as she bit a thread off.
“Please, Mrs. Dorn.” Ethel spoke quickly. “I’ve told mother and dad so much about Babs that they’re just dying to know her. Mother insisted that I bring her back with me.”
“That’s very nice I’m sure,” Mrs. Dorn said placidly.
“Then I can go, mom?”
“Well now, we’ll have to see. Could you get ready by Sunday?”
“Humph.” Hattie was distinctly disapproving. “If you ask me, I’d have something to say.”
“But no one has asked you, Hattie.” Mrs. Dorn spoke mildly, still bent over her sewing.
“Folks will turn up their noses at good advice... and so much the worse for them,” Hattie commented acidly.
“Wouldn’t you rather wait till a little later? Maybe you could have a new dress or so if it wasn’t so sudden.” Mrs. Dorn smilingly ignored Hattie.