As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. The elusive Jane tapped her on the shoulder after class. It was hot and dry. They had not to tarry long. "Why you pretended not to recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these diggings all day yesterday. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl.
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