"She deserves it," rejoined Rachel with unwonted zest. She longed to see the child conquered.
Still Primrose did not appear. Lois Henry took her herb tea, and after a severe fit of nausea felt somewhat relieved, but very weak and shaky. She was just thinking of retiring when Andrew came across the field. But he was alone.
"Hast thou seen aught of that willful child?" she inquired.
"Primrose? No." He looked from one to the other. "What hast thou been doing with her?"
Rachel sullenly recapitulated the morning's experience.
"And she had no breakfast? Where can she have gone? Surely she hath not thought to find her way to Wetherill farm! We should not have insisted upon her coming at this time. Mother, you look very ill," and the kindly face was full of solicitude.
"I am, my son. And it was not my will to have her, but your father's mind was set upon it."
"And then she is so different," began Rachel. "What if we had allowed Faith in such tantrums!"
"She needs a sharp hand to cure her evil temper."
"Mother," said Andrew with a sense of the injustice, and a rising tenderness in his heart for Primrose, "we must consider. She is not to have our lives, nor to be brought up in our way. She hath her own fortune, and her mother was a lady——"