When the papers had first made charges against Elmer, Cleo had said furiously, “Oh, what a wicked, wicked lie—darling, you know I’ll stand back of you!” but his mother had crackled, “Just how much of this is true, Elmy? I’m getting kind of sick and tired of your carryings on!”
Now, when he met them at Sunday breakfast, he held out the telegrams, and the two women elbowed each other to read them.
“Oh, my dear, I am so glad and proud!” cried Cleo; and Elmer’s mother—she was an old woman, and bent; very wretched she looked as she mumbled, “Oh, forgive me, my boy! I’ve been as wicked as that Dowler woman!”