My neighbor depicted the gravity of this situation with a spirit that
taxed my powers of admiration,--powers not slight, I may explain; for
had they not already been developed beyond the ordinary by this same
woman? Not even was she downcast in my presence. In fine, she was
superbly Miss Caroline to me. If I saw that to herself she was an
ill-fated old woman, perversely surviving a wreck with which she should
have gone down, alone in a land that seemed unkind because it did not
understand, and in desperate straits for the commonest stuff in the
world,--why, that was no matter to be opened between us. We affected
with mild philosophy to study a situation that not only did not require
study but scarcely permitted it by candid souls. But we affected to
agree that something must be done, which sounded very well indeed.
As a sign that she bore me no malice it was promised that I might hire a
man to plant Clem's garden that spring, with the understanding that I
should thus acquire an equity in its product. This seemed to be in the
line of that something that must be done, and Miss Caroline and I made
much of it, to avoid the situation's more embarrassing aspects.
"If I could only sell something," said my neighbor, with a vacant look
about the room--a look of humorous disparagement.
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