morning, after breakfast at the latest, Margaret knew, Mrs. Early would hear about her failed pregnancy, and probably about every other little observation Mrs. Lear had made of her life with Andrew. Margaret found this reassuring.
Andrew’s mother and Mrs. Hitchens were far from fatigued by their journey. They had taken a private room on the sleeper and had been pleased by the provisions in the dining car—“as elegant as anything in Europe, and there is so much more time to enjoy everything. In Europe, as soon as you have settled in, well, now you are in Münster already, and must disembark! But here! Well, the train journey is a vacation in itself. I understood from the porter that there are some families that simply ride about, living on the railroads. The scenery passes and, rough as some of it is, it’s quite all right with me to look at it and not to have to go out into it, or, God forbid, trek through it, don’t you agree, Mrs. Hitchens?” Mrs. Hitchens nodded enthusiastically.
They had lovely weather. They tramped about the island while the ladies gave her news of home, which was welcome in several ways, one of which was that it did not cause her to miss their town, or anyone in it, other than her mother and Beatrice. Mrs. Early gave her a long letter from her mother, which Margaret read page by page but not all at once. This letter, mostly about the grandchildren, she found surprisingly painful, even taken in small doses. Of course Beatrice was pregnant again, and due in September (“very uncomfortable, I must say, and partly because she never denies herself a single indulgence and has had to have all of her dresses remade and pieced out”), and little Lucy May showed an amazing musical gift. (“Much superior to Beatrice’s—perhaps the Hart side is musical, too? They say that Jewish families often are. At any rate, the darling child climbs up onto the piano bench and plays ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ with two hands, and seems to understand harmony, though she is only three.”) She had news of Dora: “Can you believe, Margaret, that Dora has gone to New York City, where she went to a lecture by Mrs. Tarbell? After the lecture, she walked right up to her and told her where she was from and then handed her a sheaf of articles she wrote, and Mrs. Tarbell took her out to tea, and the short version of the tale is that Dora might get a position at McClure’s—‘or something even better.’ Mrs. Bell pretends to be frantic that Dora will certainly never marry now, but she seems happy enough, though Mr. Bell considers Ida Tarbell the ‘Devil’s own second cousin.’ Robert, however, is quite proud of his sister.” She could see that her mother wrote about the grandchildren and Dora partly to avoid writing about herself—her handwriting was not exactly shaky, but more spidery than it had been, and she who had, since the death of her husband, leapt out of bed at dawn and gone straight to work planting or pruning or harvesting or canning, now reported that she lay in bed until eight each morning (“although I hate for half the day to pass before I can get anything done”).
On the second morning of her visit, Mrs. Early sat her down on their sofa and put her hand on Margaret’s knee. She said, “My dear Margaret, I’m afraid you must think about what it might be like to do without your dear mother at some point. Though she is younger than I am by two years or more, I do think her health is fading.”
“She says in her letter that she’s easily tired.”
“Twice I’ve dropped by to take her out for a little drive, and she’s said she’s just too tired to go.” She sighed. “I sent my girl over to help her with the spring cleaning.”
“She should go live with Beatrice.”
“But she says that the boys are too wild, and give her a headache. And now with this baby …” She shook her head.
“Elizabeth is easier to get along with.”
“I asked your mother three weeks ago whether she wanted to go with me to St. Louis, and make a visit to the spa at Meramec Highlands. This time of year, it’s very restorative, and not terribly far from Elizabeth and the girls, but she told me she never liked St. Louis.”
Margaret thanked her. Mrs. Early smiled at her in a