With a murmured, "I had better go and look after the boys," Marjorie obeyed a glance from her mother's merry eyes, and went away through the window. She was apt to fret and rebel at Mrs. Lytchett's interferences, and was specially resentful at any implied criticism of her mother.
"What a big girl Marjorie grows! She is quite startling sometimes. One forgets she isn't a child."
"She has grown up early—to fill my place," with a little sigh.
"Oh, I hope not," was the cheery response. "She could not do that, you know—at any rate, not so successfully. By the way, I came partly to ask about her. Is she engaged to Mr. Warde?"
"Engaged? No. She is scarcely eighteen."
"But he evidently admires her—there is no mistaking that—he takes complete possession of her. Now, what do you wish about it?"
"It isn't what I wish," gently. "You are very kind—but Marjorie is a girl who will settle such a matter for herself."
"Oh, but that is nonsense! Those things can always be managed with proper care."
"But I should be sorry to have her managed. Nothing forced upon Marjorie will make her happy. She must be left to herself."
"How mistaken! You would not leave her to herself if a bad man were in question."