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Miss Kate answered him very quietly； trying to keep her own voice
easy and natural。 〃That's a toy chicken； cut out of wood。〃
〃What'm I doin' with it？〃
〃You've just finished painting it。〃
Chet Ball held it in his great hand and stared at it for a brief moment；
struggling between anger and amusement。 And between anger and
amusement he put it down on the table none too gently and stood up；
yawning a little。
〃That's a hell of a job for a he…man！〃 Then in utter contrition： 〃Oh；
beggin' your pardon！ That was fierce！ I didn't〃
But there was nothing shocked about the expression on Miss Kate's
face。 She was registering joypure joy。
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The Maternal Feminine
＇1919＇
Called upon to describe Aunt Sophy； you would have to coin a term or
fall back on the dictionary definition of a spinster。 〃An unmarried
woman；〃 states that worthy work； baldly； 〃especially when no longer
young。〃 That； to the world； was Sophy Decker。 Unmarried； certainly。
And most certainly no longer young。 In figure； she was； at fifty； what is
known in the corset ads as a 〃stylish stout。〃 Well dressed in dark suits；
with broad…toed health shoes and a small； astute hat。 The suit was
practical common sense。 The health shoes were comfort。 The hat was
strictly business。 Sophy Decker made and sold hats； both astute and
ingenuous； to the female population of Chippewa； Wisconsin。
Chippewa's East End set bought the knowing type of hat； and the mill
hands and hired girls bought the naive ones。 But whether lumpy or
possessed of that thing known as line； Sophy Decker's hats were honest
hats。
The world is full of Aunt Sophys； unsung。 Plump； ruddy； capable
women of middle age。 Unwed； and rather looked down upon by a family
of married sisters and tolerant； good…humored brothers…in…law； and
careless nieces and nephews。
〃Poor Aunt Soph；〃 with a significant half smile。 〃She's such a good
old thing。 And she's had so little in life； really。〃
She was； undoubtedly； a good old thingAunt Soph。 Forever sending
a model hat to this pert little niece in Seattle； or taking Adele； Sister
Flora's daughter； to Chicago or New York as a treat on one of her buying
trips。
Burdening herself； on her business visits to these cities； with a dozen
foolish shopping commissions for the idle womenfolk of her family。
Hearing without partisanship her sisters' complaints about their husbands；
and her sisters' husbands' complaints about their wives。 It was always the
same。
〃I'm telling you this； Sophy。 I wouldn't breathe it to another living
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soul。 But I honestly think； sometimes； that if it weren't for the children…
…〃
There is no knowing why they confided these things to Sophy instead
of to each other； these wedded sisters of hers。 Perhaps they held for each
other an unuttered distrust or jealousy。 Perhaps； in making a confidante
of Sophy； there was something of the satisfaction that comes of dropping a
surreptitious stone down a deep well and hearing it plunk； safe in the
knowledge that it has struck no one and that it cannot rebound； lying there
in the soft darkness。 Sometimes they would end by saying； 〃But you
don't know what it is； Sophy。 You can't。 I'm sure I don't know why I'm
telling you all this。〃
But when Sophy answered； sagely； 〃I know； I know；〃 they paid little
heed； once having unburdened themselves。 The curious part of it is that
she did know。 She knew as a woman of fifty must know who； all her life；
has given and given and in return has received nothing。 Sophy Decker
had never used the word inhibition in her life。 She may not have known
what it meant。 She only knew （without in the least knowing she knew）
that in giving of her goods； of her affections； of her time； of her energy；
she found a certain relief。 Her own people would have been shocked if
you had told them that there was about this old…maid aunt something
rather splendidly Rabelaisian。 Without being what is known as a
masculine woman； she had； somehow； acquired the man's viewpoint； his
shrewd value sense。 She ate a good deal； and enjoyed her food。 She did
not care for those queer little stories that married women sometimes tell；
with narrowed eyes； but she was strangely tolerant of what is known as sin。
So simple and direct she was that you wondered how she prospered in a
line so subtle as the millinery business。
You might have got a fairly true characterization of Sophy Decker
from one of fifty people： from a salesman in a New York or Chicago
wholesale millinery house； from Otis Cowan； cashier of the First National
Bank of Chippewa； from Julia Gold； her head milliner and trimmer； from
almost anyone； in fact； except a member of her own family。 They knew
her least of all。 Her three married sistersGrace in Seattle； Ella in
Chicago； and Flora in Chippewaregarded her with a rather affectionate
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disapproval from the snug safety of their own conjugal inglenooks。
〃I don't know。 There's somethingwellcommon about Sophy；〃
Flora confided to Ella。 Flora； on shopping bent； and Sophy； seeking hats；
had made the five…hour run from Chippewa to Chicago together。 〃She
talks to everybody。 You should have heard her with the porter on our
train。 Chums！ And when the conductor took our tickets it was a social
occasion。 You know how packed the seven…fifty…two is。 Every seat in the
parlor car taken。 And Sophy asking the colored porter about how his
wife was getting alongshe called him Williamand if they were going to
send her West； and all about her。