Narcissus had gone to the Vicarage for a year of training, Plunkett was away all day, and Mrs. Plunkett grew more irritable, more worrying, more untidy than ever. Things really were most trying to a well-brought-up girl, tidy in her ways and affectionate in disposition, like Marigold. Jars between herself and her stepmother were incessant. Marigold could not see how to avoid them. She wanted to be on pleasant terms, but Mrs. Plunkett's gloom and ill-temper rendered pleasantness out of the question; and the disorder of the little house, which she would seldom permit Marigold to put right, was a perpetual misery.
If only Marigold might have worked hard, and have "kept everything nice" as she expressed it, she would have been happy; but she was checked and foiled at every turn. It could scarcely be wondered at, that the contrast of Todd's bearing caused her to think of him much more than she would otherwise have done. Whenever Mrs. Plunkett was especially cross, Marigold's mind fled straight to James Todd.
[CHAPTER VI.]
MARIGOLD'S LIKING.
"WHAT have you been such a time about?" demanded Mrs. Plunkett one day, when Marigold came in from some shopping. She had been sent by her stepmother. Mrs. Plunkett for days past had not stirred out of the house.
"I met James, and he went round with me,—just for a little walk." Marigold confessed the fact unhesitatingly, for she was a thoroughly truthful girl.
"Oh, he did, did he? A great stupid idle fellow. I wonder how much longer he means to hang about, letting his poor old father support him." Mrs. Plunkett had a vein of common sense, which warned her that it was wisest not to suggest what Marigold might not yet have thought of. "I don't mean to put into her head that Todd wants to marry her," she had said to Plunkett; and the resolution was a wise one, only it made the keeping of Marigold out of Todd's way more difficult.
"It isn't James' fault. He has only waited till he could find something to do here. He doesn't want to go away," said Marigold, with a blush.