THE STEADFAST HEART
“Folks forgets ancestry when they fall in love,” said Mrs. Pratt.
“They ought not to. If you have good family it’s your duty to keep it good—just as much as it’s your duty to keep your hands clean, or to keep from doing anything you’re ashamed of.”
Mrs. Pratt bridled; she was notoriously lacking in family tree. “Some folks seems willin’ enough to make friends with folks that don’t brag much about fam’ly,” she said acidly.
“What do you mean, Mrs. Pratt?” asked Lydia, immediately on her dignity.
“I mean you and Angus Burke. I guess he don’t say much about his ancestors, does he? Don’t brag none about his father. But you’re ready enough to be friends with him—and to shove him down folks’ throats by invitin’ him to your party. Guess I wouldn’t talk so much about Clara Reynolds.”
Lydia turned away her head. Unconsciously Mrs. Pratt had touched upon an open sore which Lydia had sought to conceal even from herself. For months past Angus Burke had been growing in importance to Lydia Canfield; assuming a larger place in her life and her consciousness. She had fought to suppress him, to exclude him from her thoughts, because she considered he was unworthy to occupy so large a place in her meditations, but he remained…. Last night
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