"I think I ought to know," she said, gently.
"Yes, dear," Ada answered, "I think you ought."
I shall be sorry for Elizabeth Talbert if she has been making mischief.
IV. THE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW
by Mary Stewart Cutting
I have never identified myself with my husband's family, and Charles
Edward, who is the best sort ever, doesn't expect me to. Of course, I
want to be decent to them, though I know they talk about me, but you
can't make oil and water mix, and I don't see the use of pretending
that you can. I know they never can understand how Charles Edward
married me, and they never can get used to my being such a different
type from theirs. The Talberts are all blue-eyed, fair-haired, and
rosy, and I'm dark, thin, and pale, and Grandmother Evarts always
thinks I can't be well, and wants me to take the medicine she takes.
But, really, I see very little of the family, except Alice and Billy,
who don't count. Billy comes in at any time he feels like it to get a
book and something to eat, though the others don't know it, and Alice
has fits of stopping in every afternoon on her way from school, and
then perhaps doesn't come near me for weeks. Alice is terribly
discontented at home, and I think it's a very good thing that she is;
anything is better than sinking to that dreadful dead level.
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