Many of them die but some live on and on, and
after a sufficient test of time become a part of the town chronicles.
Everybody, of course, takes a hand at helping a yarn get from house to
house but nobody makes such a specialty of this sort of social work as
Fanny Foster. There are some Green Valley folks who attribute Fanny's
up and down thinness to this wearing industry yet both men and women
are always glad to see her and her reports always drive blue cares away
and provoke ripples of sunny laughter.
Everybody in town has tried their hand at hating Fanny and despising
her and ignoring her and putting her in her place. But everybody has
long ago given it up. Stylish and convention-loving newcomers are
always disgusted and keep her at arm's length. But sooner or later
such people break an arm or a leg right in the midst of strawberry
canning maybe and it so happens that nobody sees them do this but
Fanny. And when this does happen they don't even have to mortify
themselves by calling her. She just comes of her own accord,
forgetting the cruel snubbings. She fixes that stand-offish person as
comfortable as can be, makes them laugh even, and telephones to the
doctor. Then she rolls up her sleeves and without so much as an apron
has those strawberries scientifically canned and that messy kitchen
beautifully clean.
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