“And she’s that man’s daughter, too, you know,” remarked Belle.
“Ahem!” said their father, weakly.
“It’s not decent to have her here.”
“Of course, other people will remember what Morrell did. It will make a scandal for us.”
“I cannot help it! I cannot help it!” cried Mr. Starkweather, suddenly breaking out and battling against his daughters as he sometimes did when they pressed him too closely. “I cannot send her away.”
“Well, she mustn’t be encouraged to stay,” declared Hortense.
“I should say not,” rejoined Belle.
“And getting up at this hour to breakfast,” Hortense sniffed.
Helen Morrell wore strong, well-made walking boots. Good shoes were something that she could always buy in Elberon. But usually she walked lightly and springily.
Now she came stamping through the small hall, and on the heels of the last remark, flung back the curtain and strode into the den.