Mrs. Cormack said that she was shocked, and looked very much amused. The little history made up for the bore of having the children brought in. That was a thing she objected to very much; it stopped all rational conversation. But now her curiosity was stirred.
"Why don't you like Mr. Ruston, my child?" she asked Madge.
"I don't dislike him," said Madge, rosy red, and speaking with elaborate slowness. She said it as though it were a lesson she had learnt.
"But why, then," said Mrs. Cormack, whirling her hands, "beat the little Carlin?"
"That was before mamma told me," answered Madge, the two younger ones sitting by, open-mouthed, to hear her explanation.
"Oh, what an obedient child! How I should have liked a little girl like you, darling!"
Madge hated sarcasm, and her feelings towards Mrs. Cormack reflected those of her idol, Tom Loring.
"I don't know what you mean," she said curtly; and then she looked anxiously at her mother.
But Mrs. Dennison was smiling.
"Let her alone, Berthe," she said. "She's been punished. Give her some fruit, Harry."