At last they were alone in the bedroom. Minnie had just locked the door
when Frances sprang at her, caught her in a tight embrace, and
whispered:
“Minnie!”
“What?” asked Minnie sharply.
“Minnie!... _I’m engaged!_”
Minnie gasped.
“Why, Frankie!” she cried. “How on earth!...”
“Oh, darling, I’ve been longing to tell you!... I’m so happy! If you
only knew him, Minnie! You couldn’t help liking him. There’s something
about him.... He’s so dear and boyish----”
“Who is he?” Minnie asked.
“He’s an Englishman. Very nice family, and all that. The nicest manners.
And I consider him really handsome. Just the type we’ve always liked,
Minnie.”
It occurred to Frances that Minnie was not so enthusiastic as the
occasion warranted. She felt a sudden fear that Minnie was jealous, felt
herself neglected.
“We’ve talked so much about you,” she hurried on. “You’re going to live
with us after we’re married, and we’re going to do everything to make
you happy. I told Lionel what a little brick you were, slaving away
here, and he said he knew he’d love you. And, oh, Minnie, you’re _sure_
to love him!”
Instead of answering Minnie got up and went to the window, stood there,
staring out at the fields.
“Minnie!” cried her sister, “Please, Minnie, darling, say you’re glad!”
“I am,” said Minnie, keeping her back turned, “I’m very glad you’re so
happy.”
“Please you be happy too! I’m going to make Lionel write to you the
instant I get back.”
“Frankie,” said Minnie, “you’re not going back.”
There was something unmistakably sinister in her voice now; Frances
looked at her nervously.
“What on earth do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean just what I say. You’re not going back to New York. I’m going
and you’ll have to stay here.”
“But what ... Minnie, what nonsense! I have my job and Lionel....”
“They’ll have to get on without you,” said Minnie.
“You’re crazy!” said her sister. “What would you do in New York? And
who’ll take care of Grandma?”
“You.”
“I shouldn’t dream of giving up my job.”
“You’ll have to. I tell you, Frankie, I’m going to have my turn. I’ve
stopped here a whole year while you’ve been in the city and I’m sick and
tired of it. I’m _through_. I’m going!”
“You can’t be such a beast. After I’ve just told you about Lionel.”
“He can come out here to see you.”
“He can’t. He’s too poor. He couldn’t pay the fare.”
“Then you’d better not bother about him. You certainly couldn’t marry
him if he’s as poor as that.”
“Minnie, please be reasonable. I’ll just go back for a few weeks----”
“You shan’t go back at all.”
“I will! I won’t give in to your nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense; it’s justice. You’ve had a year and now I’m going to
have a year. You didn’t care whether or not I wanted you to go, and now
I don’t care whether you want me to go or not. I’m going.”
Frances smiled scornfully.
“I’ll go back as usual,” she said.
“Oh, _will_ you! I’ve got a nice place myself.”
“I don’t believe it! What sort of place?”
“I’m going to be Aunt Irene’s companion,” she said calmly, “And I’m
going to get just as much as you’re getting.”
They fought it out passionately, forgot their dignity, forgot their
love, raised their voices until the poor old lady at the end of the
corridor heard them. They cried, too, tears of anger and hysteria; at
last, from sheer exhaustion they fell asleep side by side in the bed
they had slept in together for so many nights in harmony and affection,
fell asleep hating each other, each utterly resolved upon her own way.