That evening passed by very quietly as far as Miss Mackenzie was concerned. She had some time since, immediately on her last arrival at the Cedars, offered to relieve her aunt from the trouble of making tea, and the duty had then been given up to her. But since Lady Ball's affair in obtaining possession of her niece's secret, the post of honour had been taken away.
"You don't make it as your uncle likes it," Lady Ball had said.
She made her little offer again on this evening, but it was rejected.
"Thank you, no; I believe I had better do it myself," had been the answer.
"Why can't you let Margaret make tea? I'm sure she does it very well," said John.
"I don't see that you can be a judge, seeing that you take none," his mother replied; "and if you please, I'd rather make the tea in my own house as long as I can."
This little allusion to her own house was, no doubt, a blow at her son, to punish him in that he had dictated to her in that matter of the continued entertainment of her guest; but Margaret also felt it to be a blow at her, and resolved that she would escape from the house with as little further delay as might be possible. Beyond this, the evening was very quiet, till Margaret, a little after tea, took her candle and went off wearily to her room.
But then the business of the day as regarded the Cedars began; for John Ball, before he went to bed, told both his father and his mother the whole story,—the story, that is, as far as the money was concerned, and also as far as Margaret's conduct to him was concerned; but of his own feelings towards her he said nothing.
"She has behaved admirably, mother," he said; "you must acknowledge that, and I think that she is entitled to all the kindness we can show her."
"I have been kind to her," Lady Ball answered.