Mother said no more. She was a wise woman, and never pursued a vexed question when there was no need to do so. I, who was not so wise, thought that I now saw a fitting opportunity for putting in my own peculiar oar amid the troubled waters.
"I don't think you need trouble your head about it, father," I said. "Joyce will never marry Squire Broderick, even if he were to ask her. She's in love with Captain Forrester."
Father turned round with the pipe he was filling 'twixt his finger and thumb and looked at me.
"Margaret," said mother, "didn't I tell you just now that that was a most strange and unseemly thing to say?"
I did not answer, and father still looked at me with the pipe between his finger and thumb.
"In love with Captain Forrester, indeed!" continued mother, scornfully. "And pray, how do you know that Captain Forrester is in love with Joyce?"
"Well, of course," answered I, with a toss of my head, "girls don't fall in love with men unless the men are in love with them first. Who ever heard of such a thing? Of course he's in love with Joyce."
"Stuff and nonsense!" said mother, emphatically, tapping the floor with her foot, as she was wont to do when she was annoyed. "Captain Forrester and your sister haven't met more than half a dozen times in the course of their lives. I wonder what a love is going to be like that takes the world by storm after three weeks' acquaintance."
"There is such a thing as love at first sight," answered I, with what I know must have been an annoyingly superior air. It did not impress mother.