Leonetta glanced up, scrutinised her mother and sister for a second, and her brow clouded. "Oh, Peachy," she cried at last, "you are a worm!"
Mrs. Delarayne sat down, and fumbled nervously with a brooch at her neck. She realised dimly that she ought to protest against being addressed in this manner by her younger daughter and stared vacantly at Cleopatra.
"You see," she said, "I have my Inner Light meeting."
"Your inner what?" Leonetta exclaimed contemptuously.
A slight flush crept slowly up the widow's neck, and she looked hopelessly in the direction of her elder daughter.
Leonetta laughed. "Inner Light!" she cried. "Peachy, you are getting into funny ways in your old age; now come, aren't you?"
A look of such deep mortification came into Mrs. Delarayne's eyes, that Cleopatra herself felt provoked.
"There's no need to be rude, Baby!" she ejaculated angrily, not realising quite how much of her anger was utterly unconnected with her sister's treatment of their mother.
Leonetta glanced down at her paper in the thoughtful manner of a buck about to butt. For the first time she had perceived clearly that much of which she had not the smallest inkling must have happened during her long absences from home, and that these two women,—her mother and sister,—were united by strangely powerful bonds. Being an intelligent creature, therefore, she decided to postpone the framing of her strategy until she had learned more about the strength that seemed to be constantly combining against her.
She raised her eyes at last, and looked straight into her sister's face.