"You can go on talking all night, Eddie, I'll never apologize. Time after time when she sneered at me till my blood boiled, I've kept my temper. She deserved ten times more than I said. Do you think I'm going to knuckle under to a woman like that?"
"Remember she's my wife, Nora."
"Why didn't you marry a lady?"
"What the dickens do you think is the use of being a lady out here?"
"You've degenerated since you left England."
"Now look here, my dear, I'll just tell you what Gertie did for me. She was a waitress in Winnipeg at the Minnedosa Hotel, and she was making money. She knew what the life was on a farm--much harder than anything she'd been used to in the city--but she accepted all the hardship of it and the monotony of it, because--because she loved me."
"She thought it a good match. You were a gentleman."
"Fiddledidee! She had the chance of much better men than me. And when----"
"Such men as Frank Taylor, no doubt."
"And when I lost my harvest two years running, do you know what she did? She went back to the hotel in Winnipeg for the winter, so as to carry things on till the next harvest. And at the end of the winter, she gave me every cent she'd earned to pay the interest of my mortgage and the installments on the machinery."
Nora had been more moved by this recital than she would have cared to confess. She turned away her head to hide that her eyes had filled with tears. After all, a woman who could show such devotion as that, and to her brother---- Yes, she would try again.
"Very welclass="underline" I'll apologize. But leave me alone with her. I--I don't think I could do it even before you, Eddie."
"Fine! That's a good girl. I'll go and tell her."
Nora felt repaid in advance for any sacrifice to her pride as he beamed on her, all the look of worriment gone. She was once more busy at her ironing-board, bending low over her work to hide her confusion, when he returned with Gertie. A glance at her sister-in-law told her that there was to be no unbending in that quarter until she had made proper atonement. There was little conciliatory about that sullen face.
However, she made an effort to speak lightly until, once Eddie had taken his departure, she could make her apology.
"I've been getting on famously with the ironing."
"Have you?"
"This is one of the few things I can do all right."
"Any child can iron."
"Well, I'll be going down to the shed," said her brother uneasily.
"What for?" said Gertie quickly.
"I want to see about mending that door. It hasn't been closing right."
"I thought Nora had something to say to me."
"So she has: that's what I'm going to leaves you alone for."
"I like that. She insults me before everybody and then, when she's going to apologize, it's got to be private. No, thank you."
"What do you mean, Gertie?" asked Nora.
"You sent Ed in to tell me you was goin' to apologize for what you'd said, didn't you?"
"And I'm ready to: for peace and quietness."
"Well, what you said was before the men, and it's before the men you must say you're sorry."
"How can you ask me to do such a thing!" cried Nora indignantly.
"Don't be rough on her, Gertie," pleaded her husband. "No one likes apologizing."
"People who don't like apologizing should keep a better lookout on their tongue."
"It can't do you any good to make her eat humble pie before the men."
"Perhaps it won't do me any good, but it'll do her good!"
"Gertie, don't be cruel. I'm sorry if I lost my temper just now, and said anything that hurt you. But please don't make me humiliate myself before the others."
"I've made up my mind," said Gertie, folding her arms across her breast, "so it's no good talking."
"Don't you see that it's bad enough to have to beg your pardon before Eddie?"
"Good Lord!" said Gertie irritably, "why can't you call him Ed like the rest of us. 'Eddie' sounds so sappy."
"I've called him Eddie all my life: it's what our mother called him," said Nora sadly.
"Oh, it's all of a piece. You do everything you can to make yourself different from all of us."
She stalked over to the window and stood with folded arms looking out toward the wood-pile on which Reggie was seated--it is to be presumed having a moment's respite after his arduous labors.
"No, I don't," pleaded Nora. "At least I don't mean to. Why won't you give me any credit for trying to do my best to please you?"
"That's neither here nor there." She suddenly wheeled about, facing them both. "Go and fetch the men, Ed, and then I'll hear what she's got to say."
"No, I won't, I won't, I won't!" cried Nora furiously. "You drive me too far."
"You won't beg my pardon?" demanded Gertie threateningly. If she wished to drive Nora beside herself, she accomplished her purpose.
"I said I could teach you manners," she gave a hysterical laugh, "I made a mistake. I couldn't teach you manners, for one can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear."
"Shut up, Nora," said her brother sharply.
"Now you must make her, Ed," said Gertie grimly.
He replied with a despairing gesture.
"I'm sick to death of the pair of you!"
"I'm your wife, and I'm going to be mistress of this house--my house."
"It's horrible to make her eat humble pie before three strange men. You've no right to ask her to do a thing like that."
"Are you taking her part?" demanded Gertie, her voice rising in fury. "What's come over you since she came here. You're not the same to me as you used to be. Why did she come here and get between us?"
"I haven't changed."
"Haven't I been a good wife to you? Have you ever had any complaint to make of me?"
"You know perfectly well I haven't."
"As soon as your precious sister comes along, you let me be insulted. You don't say a word to defend me!"
"Darling," said her husband with grim humor, "you've said a good many to defend yourself."
But Gertie was not to be reached by humor, grim or otherwise.
"I'm sick and tired of being put upon. You must choose between us," she said, with an air of finality.
"What on earth do you mean?"
"If you don't make her apologize right now before the hired men, I'm quit of you."
"I can't make her apologize if she won't."
"Then let her quit."
"Oh, I wish I could! I wish to God I could!" said Nora wildly.
"You know she can't do that," said Marsh roughly. "There's nowhere she can go. I've offered her a home. You were quite willing, when I suggested having her here."
"I was willing because I thought she'd make herself useful. We can't afford to feed folks who don't earn their keep. We have to work for our money, we do."
"I didn't know you grudged me the little I eat," said Nora bitterly. "I wonder if I should begrudge it to you, if I were in your place."
"Look here, it's no good talking. I'm not going to turn her out. As long as she wants a home, the farm's open to her. And she's welcome to everything I've got."
"Then you choose her?" demanded Gertie.
"Choose her? I don't know what you're talking about!" Easy-going as he was, he was beginning to show signs of irritation.
"I said you'd got to choose between us. Very well, let her stay. I earned my own living before, and I can earn it again. I'm going."
"Don't talk such nonsense," said Marsh violently.
"You think I don't mean it? D'you think I'm going to stay here and be put upon? Why should I?"
"Don't you--love me any more?"
"Haven't I shown that I love you? Have you forgotten, Ed?"
"We've gone through so much together, darling," he said huskily.
"Yes, we have that," she said in a softened tone.
"Won't you forgive her, for--for my sake?"
Gertie's face hardened once more.
"No, I can't. You're a man, you don't understand. If she won't apologize, either she must go or I shall."