“We were coming here together to see you, but before we left the steamer he got a telegram urging him to go at once to his father, who is very ill.”
“I have not asked him to come and see me. Perhaps he will wait till I do so.”
“If you are not going to love Tyrrel, you need not love me. I won’t have you for a grandmother any longer.”
“I did without you sixty years. I shall not live another twelve months, and I think I can manage to do without you for a granddaughter any longer.”
“You cannot do without me. You would break your heart, and I should break mine.” Whereupon Ethel began to cry with a passion that quite gratified the old lady. She watched her a few moments, and then said gently:
“There now, that will do. When he comes to New York bring him to see me. And don’t name the man in the meantime. I won’t talk about him till I’ve seen him. It isn’t fair either way. Fred didn’t like him.”
“Fred likes no one but Dora Stanhope.”
“Eh! What! Is that nonsense going on yet?”
Then Ethel described her last two interviews with Dora. She did this with scrupulous fidelity, making no suggestions that might prejudice the case. For she really wanted her grandmother’s decision in order to frame her own conduct by it. Madam was not, however, in a hurry to give it.
“What do you think?” she asked Ethel.