She had been working harder
than ever all the spring over her designs for Chrystler & Company, and
her cheeks were of a truth somewhat less round and her colour less vivid
of hue. She was tired, although she had not owned it, even to herself.
"You see, Doctor Churchill," she said, slowly, "until father and mother
went away I had been the lazy one of the family, the
good-for-nothing--the drone--and I've not yet learned to work in the
quiet way my sister does, which accomplishes so much without any fuss.
Now that she can get about again she does twice as much as I do, but she
doesn't make such a clatter of tools, and doesn't get the credit for
being as busy as I."
"I see. Of course I had a feeling all along that this dish-washing and
dinner-getting and baby-tending were mere pretense, and I'm relieved to
have you own up to it!"
Charlotte laughed. "After all, one doesn't like to be taken at one's own
estimate," she admitted. "I confess I feel a pang to have you agree with
me, even in jest."
"Do you know," he said, abruptly, after an instant's silence, "you gave
me great pleasure this morning?"
"I? How?"
"By the way you stood by your brother.
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