“Father couldn’t do such a thing,” she said huskily. “Poor father! I would go back to him this moment if I could.”
The independence of tone struck me as curious. She was nearly three years younger than my submissive Cherry. I half expected an apology to myself after Robert’s rebuke; but none came.
“Mother!” Jack called at the door, “may I come in?” He entered without waiting for leave. “Cherry has tea almost ready to pour out; and I have taken Maimie’s trunk down into the basement. Cherry doesn’t know where it could stand in her room. Is everything settled, mother?”
“Nothing is settled,” I replied, “except that of course Maimie Browne must stay here for a day or two, as she has nowhere to go, until we can find other relations.”
“I haven’t any other relations. I am going to work for my living after a day or two,” Maimie said. The defiant look came again as she faced me, her colour rising and her eyes sparkling.
“Bosh!” said Jack indignantly.
My husband laid his hand on her arm. “Maimie,” he said, “you must not wilfully misunderstand us or count us unkind.”
“Not you, Uncle Robert!” and she threw herself upon him and sobbed again, with her flaxen waves of hair flowing over his shoulder. He petted and comforted her, and Jack finally led her away with an air of admiring protection.
I felt strangely icy at heart. When they were gone I took up my work, and said nothing. Neither did my husband utter a word. I think he wished to leave me time for thought, perhaps for prayer. But I was in no mood just then for looking upward.