V
“Mother,” said the girl after a time, “tell me why you really want me to go away? Why is it you don’t want me around where Gordon is? What’s the matter with him?”
“I said he was a ‘rotter.’ That’s enough!”
“But what do you mean by a ‘rotter’? What especially could he do by just remaining here?”
Gracia Theddon bit her lip.
“Don’t you know how a bad boy could compromise a girl or woman if he took it into his head to do it?”
“Compromise her? Just what do you mean?”
Mrs. Theddon stood looking out of the window for a time.
“Sit down, Madge,” she directed, after decision showed grimly on her strong face. “I’m going to tell you a lot of things I wish that my mother had told me, even when I was as young as yourself.”
The room grew dark as they sat there. The girl had drawn a chair to the window and as the mother finished, she remained for a long time with her elbows on the sill, her hands cupped about her face, staring down at the river and the serried lights across the South End Bridge.
“I’m glad you’ve told me,” she said at last. “I’ve always wanted to know but never dared ask.”
Gracia Theddon arose and snapped on the lights.