"Nothing. I went up to see her just now, but I was disappointed. She could not, or would not, come in. I rather fancy your mother had been scolding her."
"I have no doubt she had. She doesn't approve of independence on the part of young people."
"I won't have her scolded," Mr. Kingston broke out, with sudden vehemence. "If I like to blame her, that is another matter. I won't have her set against me by other people. Nothing would make her hate me more than that kind of thing."
Mrs. Reade felt the justice of this protest, but she did not see fit to discuss her mother's little mistakes. "What are you going to do?" she inquired.
"Do you mean am I going to take my dismissal in this off-hand way? No, certainly not. After all the time we have been engaged—after all that has come and gone between us—after all the preparations that have been made—it would be too preposterous! I should be the laughing-stock of the colony."
"That would be very sad," said Mrs. Reade, with her head on one side.
"Now be a good little woman, and don't jeer at me—I didn't come to you for that. You know—or you ought to know—that I am horribly upset and miserable about all this business, and that I want you to help me."
"I don't see how I can help you," she said.
"Tell me about Rachel. What is the matter with her? What does she mean?"
"Well, evidently she means that she doesn't want to marry you," sighed Mrs. Reade. "Tiresome child, why didn't she think of it before?"