§ iii
They got back a little late for the meal known as Sunday night tea. She hurried upstairs to wash and brush her hair, and there in their room were her daughters, both stretched out on the bed.
“Edna!” she cried. “Andrée! Where have you been? Your father had a motor to take you out ... he was so disappointed. You have no right to worry and annoy him so.... Where have you been since dinner time?”
Edna raised herself on one elbow.
“Sorry, Mother darling! We went out with that funny little man. We ran across him as we were coming out of the drug-store and he began to talk. Said he was going to walk to a place called ‘The Brave’s Leap,’ and asked us if we didn’t want to go along, so we did. It was heavenly! Miles and miles.... We’re awfully tired, but it’s a nice tiredness.”
“What an outrageous thing to do! I’m surprised at you! The man’s a perfect stranger—and not a desirable person at all. I can’t tell you how annoyed I am. And your father’s plans all upset—”
“But we didn’t know about Father’s plans,” said Edna.
“We didn’t miss much,” said Andrée. “I hate those silly drives. As it was, we got a lot of splendid exercise and a lot of fun.”
“You mustn’t do such things without asking me! I thought you both knew better than to go off that way with a stranger. It was very wrong and inconsiderate. Naturally your father expects to see something of you in the little time he’s here—”
“But, Mother dear,” said Edna, patiently. “We’re not children. We couldn’t leave Mr. Stephens standing in the street while we ran home to ask mother. He’s a very nice little beast, and there was really absolutely no harm in taking a walk with him.”
“I have no control over them!” thought Claudine, bitterly. “Gilbert is right!”
Aloud she said, in a tone of great displeasure:
“There is no time to argue with you now. It’s late. Please get dressed at once for supper.”
“We don’t want any supper,” said Andrée. “The nice little beast had all sorts of things in his knapsack. We’ve been eating all afternoon.”
“And we stopped at a funny little inn somewhere on the road and had ginger ale and more sandwiches. Mother, I wish you’d been there! It was the only decent time we’ve had in this place. We saw the most beautiful waterfall, and a wonderful gorge that an Indian’s supposed to have jumped across. And the man’s really very nice. Of course he’s common, and all that sort of thing, but he’s the most cheerful creature!”
“He said he was ‘athaletic,’” said Andrée, “and he is! He showed off all the time, and it was very amusing.”
But Claudine was not listening; she was thinking with dread of what she should say to Gilbert.
And in the end she was certainly not candid.
“The girls went for a long walk in the mountains,” she told him. She didn’t mention the “nice little beast,” and neither did they, whether from dissimulation or carelessness she didn’t care to investigate.
On an early train the next morning Gilbert and Mr. MacGregor went back to the city, and she drew a breath of relief. Now she had only two adversaries to struggle against—and perhaps the common little man as well.