to defend Susan’s honor, but because the insult was patently ridiculous. Her face was almost round.)
Susan bent down to the surface of Mme. Graveau’s heavy, oak table, only her breasts keeping her from a parallel position. She looked this way and that, and saw nothing of interest amongst the other patrons of Mme. Graveau’s. In a gravelly stage whisper she said, “James Morneau. Did you see him?”
“Did I see him?” Of course I did. “Susan, yes, I saw him while I was working. Where were you?” I reached for the earthenware bowl, and she slapped my hand away.
Her eyes were moist, as quickly and with as little warning as the bowl of vegetables had appeared. I knew her to have a spigot somewhere on her person, for just this purpose. I had not yet found it, despite rather thorough searching, but mark you, it was there.
“I knew James Morneau, Mattie.” Sniffle. “Or rather, I know his wife, Jennie. Three dear children, two without shoes to this day – only the littlest one has them, worn down from wear by her brothers…” She continued, but the bit about the children still not having shoes let me know Susan was in the midst of one of her… embellishments. Aye, at one time or another, maybe a year before, James Morneau must have had an unshod wee one, and no other way to shoe ‘m. But if “Jennie” and the Morneau family were such objects of her affection, Susan would have put shoes on those children by then, if no-one else would. She had the means, for that, anyway.
Mind you, to draw attention to Susan’s embellishments is not to disparage her – so long as one has learned to recognize them, and to avoid being misled by them, where was the harm?