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Devine washed windows。
By May； Blanche Devine had left off her diamond eardropsperhaps it
was their absence that gave her face a new expression。 When she went
downtown we noticed that her hats were more like the hats the other
women in our town wore； but she still affected extravagant footgear； as is
right and proper for a stout woman who has cause to be vain of her feet。
We noticed that her trips downtown were rare that spring and summer。 She
used to come home laden with little bundles； and before supper she would
change her street clothes for a neat； washable housedress； as is our thrifty
custom。 Through her bright windows we could see her moving briskly
about from kitchen to sitting room； and from the smells that floated out
from her kitchen door； she seemed to be preparing for her solitary supper
the same homely viands that were frying or stewing or baking in our
kitchens。 Sometimes you could detect the delectable scent of browning；
hot tea biscuit。 It takes a determined woman to make tea biscuit for no
one but herself。
Blanche Devine joined the church。 On the first Sunday morning she
came to the service there was a little flurry among the ushers at the
vestibule door。 They seated her well in the rear。 The second Sunday
morning a dreadful thing happened。 The woman next to whom they
seated her turned； regarded her stonily for a moment； then rose agitatedly
and moved to a pew across the aisle。
Blanche Devine's face went a dull red beneath her white powder。 She
never came againthough we saw the minister visit her once or twice。
She always accompanied him to the door pleasantly； holding it well open
until he was down the little flight of steps and on the sidewalk。 The
minister's wife did not call。
She rose early； like the rest of us； and as summer came on we used to
see her moving about in her little garden patch in the dewy； golden
morning。 She wore absurd pale…blue negligees that made her stout figure
loom immense against the greenery of garden and apple tree。 The
neighborhood women viewed these negligees with Puritan disapproval as
they smoothed down their own prim； starched gingham skirts。 They said
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it was disgusting and perhaps it was； but the habit of years is not easily
overcome。 Blanche Devinesnipping her sweet peas； peering anxiously
at the Virginia creeper that clung with such fragile fingers to the trellis；
watering the flower baskets that hung from her porchwas blissfully
unconscious of the disapproving eyes。 I wish one of us had just stopped
to call good morning to her over the fence； and to say in our neighborly；
small…town way： 〃My； ain't this a scorcher！ So early too！ It'll be
fierce by noon！〃
But we did not。
I think perhaps the evenings must have been the loneliest for her。
The summer evenings in our little town are filled with intimate； human；
neighborly sounds。 After the heat of the day it is pleasant to relax in the
cool comfort of the front porch； with the life of the town eddying about us。
We sew and read out there until it grows dusk。 We call across lots to our
next… door neighbor。 The men water the lawns and the flower boxes and
get together in little； quiet groups to discuss the new street paving。 I have
even known Mrs。 Hines to bring her cherries out there when she had
canning to do； and pit them there on the front porch partially shielded by
her porch vine； but not so effectually that she was deprived of the sights
and sounds about her。 The kettle in her lap and the dishpan full of great
ripe cherries on the porch floor by her chair； she would pit and chat and
peer out through the vines； the red juice staining her plump bare arms。
I have wondered since what Blanche Devine thought of us those
lonesome eveningsthose evenings filled with friendly sights and sounds。
It must have been difficult for her； who had dwelt behind closed shutters
so long； to seat herself on the new front porch for all the world to stare at；
but she did sit thereresolutelywatching us in silence。
She seized hungrily upon the stray crumbs of conversation that fell to
her。 The milkman and the iceman and the butcher boy used to hold daily
conversation with her。 Theysociable gentlemenwould stand on her
door… step； one grimy hand resting against the white of her doorpost；
exchanging the time of day with Blanche in the doorwaya tea towel in
one hand； perhaps； and a plate in the other。 Her little house was a miracle
of cleanliness。 It was no uncommon sight to see her down on her knees
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on the kitchen floor； wielding her brush and rag like the rest of us。 In
canning and preserving time there floated out from her kitchen the
pungent scent of pickled crab apples； the mouth…watering smell that meant
sweet pickles； or the cloying； divinely sticky odor that meant raspberry
jam。 Snooky； from her side of the fence； often used to peer through the
pickets； gazing in the direction of the enticing smells next door。
Early one September morning there floated out from Blanche Devine's
kitchen that fragrant； sweet scent of fresh…baked cookiescookies with
butter in them； and spice； and with nuts on top。 Just by the smell of them
your mind's eye pictured them coming from the oven…crisp brown circlets；
crumbly； delectable。 Snooky； in her scarlet sweater and cap； sniffed them
from afar and straightway deserted her sand pile to take her stand at the
fence。 She peered through the restraining bars； standing on tiptoe。
Blanche Devine； glancing up from her board and rolling pin； saw the eager
golden head。 And Snooky； with guile in her heart； raised one fat；
dimpled hand above the fence and waved it friendlily。 Blanche Devine
waved back。 Thus encouraged； Snooky's two hands wigwagged
frantically above the pickets。 Blanche Devine hesitated a moment； her
floury hand on her hip。 Then she went to the pantry shelf and took out a
clean white saucer