"And she is not handsome," declared the young miss with a decisive air.
"She is beautiful to me, and sweet and kind, and loves me," replied Annis with a swelling heart.
"Well—our mother loved us. It was very cruel in God to take her away. I would a hundred times rather have her than your mother."
"I am sorry she is gone. Everybody must love her own mother the best."
The tone was sweet at the beginning and confident at the end, yet it hardly suited the daughter of the house.
"You would not have been here, then," triumphantly.
"No. But we should have left the settlement and come to Baltimore. I liked it there. And there was a kindly old lady who begged mother to leave me with her, but your father said 'Nay' quite sharply. And at first she would not consent to the marriage."
There had been some jesting discussion at the Carringtons'. Annis had not clearly understood it.
"But she would have had to. Father makes people do his way. He is the master of everything."
Annis was silent. She did not yet clearly understand the mystery, but she sometimes thought she would be glad to go back to the settlement and have her mother all to herself. Something seemed to come between continually. There were numerous cares for the housewife on so large a plantation, with children and servants, visitors and a rather exigent husband.