Drusilla with a Million | Page 2

you all I know. Can I take my teeth out now?"
"No, Barbara; keep your teeth in till we've finished with you. A person can't understand a word you say with your teeth out, you gum your words so."
"But they hurt me; they don't fit. I ain't had a new pair for twenty years and my jaws've shrunk."
"Well, keep 'em in fer a while. They won't shrink any more fer a minit. Did they look like relations?"
"Relations!" said a big, placid-looking woman who was knitting quietly. "Drusilla ain't got no relations. She ain't never had none."
"She must have had some at one time. Everybody has relations-- although some people I know, had rather be without them than recognize the kind they got." The sour voiced old lady directed her tones toward the seat next to her.
"If you're a meanin' me, Caroline, I want to tell you my relations is just as good as your'n, though we don't throw 'em down everybody's throat as some folks I know."
"No," said another; "Drusilla has no family; she told me so herself. One day I was telling her about my family, about my father who was so well known in the State, and my brother who became the great--"
"Now don't begin on your family, Maria. We know all about it. We ain't heard nothin' else fer the last three years. It's a good thing that some of the women in this home has something else to talk about except the greatness of their family, or we'd all be dead."
The little old lady twisted her ball of yarn viciously, causing it to roll upon the floor, and when she had stiffly followed it and picked it from the corner her face was very red, either from the exertion of stooping or from the insult she felt she had received.
"You're jealous--that's what's the matter with you! People who've no folks are always jealous of them who's had 'em; but old age has its liberties, I suppose, and we must pardon a great deal on account of it."
"Are you speakin' of me, I'd like to know? I ain't but four years older'n you. I'm only seventy-nine and you was seventy-five last May, though you didn't want us to know it was your birthday. But I seen the date in the book some one sent you, and you can't deny it."
"Never mind," broke in the placid-looking lady again, trying to pour oil on the troubled waters; "don't fight. Barbara, did they look rich? Put your teeth in again--why can't you leave 'em alone! Teeth are fer your mouth and not fer your pocket. You do beat me and rile me dreadfully, Barbara."
"I tell you they hurt," whimpered Barbara. "I can't even enjoy the sun with my teeth in."
"Never mind. Did they?"
"Did they what?"
"Did they look rich?"
"Oh, awful. I told you they looked like directors."
"Perhaps Drusilla has friends she ain't told us about."
"No, she ain't. She told me one day she didn't have a friend or a relation in the world, and if she'd a had 'em they'd a been to see her."
"Oh, I don't know. That ain't no sign. Your friends ferget you when you're in an old ladies' home," said a voice bitterly.
"Well, I wonder who it can be! I wish she'd hurry, so's we could ask her."
"Poor Drusilla!" said a sweet-voiced little woman. "I hope some one's found her. It's awful to have no one in all the world."
"How long's Drusilla been here?"
"Let me see"--and an old lady put down her sewing. "I been here seven years, I was here not quite two years when Drusilla come. She's been the linen woman ever since."
"Yes," said a woman who showed signs of having seen better days. Her clothes still had a look of by-gone elegance and her wrinkled hands were still dainty and beautifully kept. "Drusilla's our only charity inmate."
The stout old lady in the corner emitted a sound between a snort and a groan.
"Charity inmate! What are we all but charity inmates!"
The first old lady drew herself up stiffly.
"You may speak for yourself, Mis' Graham, but I am no charity inmate."
"You're just as much of one as I am."
"What do you mean? I pay each year a hundred and twenty dollars, and I paid when I entered an entrance fee of a hundred dollars."
"So'd we all; but still this is an old ladies' charitable home."
"Mis' Graham, how can you say such things!" spoke up a voice that had not been heard before. "I consider that we pay our way; and my grand-nephew who was here last week considers it ample!"
"Oh, so do most of our relations who'd rather pay our way in a home than be bothered with us around."
"You may speak for yourself, Mis' Graham. I pay my way myself."
"Yes, you was a dressmaker or something