“I should say every intention, but no prospect of doing so. Dipsomaniacs are always intending to reform; but they rarely succeed. Has Lucy been put to bed?”
“Lucy is in disgrace,” said Elinor. Marian looked at her apprehensively.
“In disgrace!” said Conolly, more seriously. “How so?”
Elinor described what had taken place in the garden. When she told how the child had disregarded Marian’s appeal, Conolly laughed.
“Lucy has no sense of how pretty she would have looked toddling in obediently because her aunt asked her to,” he said. “She is, like all children, very practical, and will not assist in getting up amiable little scenes without good reason rendered.”
Elinor glanced at Marian, and saw that though Douglas was speaking to her in a low voice, she was listening nervously to her husband. So she said sharply, “It is a pity you were not here to tell us what to do.”
“Apparently it is,” said Conolly, complacently.
“What would you have done?” said Marian suddenly, interrupting Douglas.
“I suppose,” said Conolly, looking round at her in surprise, “I should have answered her question—told her what she was wanted for. If I asked you to do anything, and you enquired why, you would be extremely annoyed if I answered, ‘because I ask you.’”
“I would not ask why,” said Marian. “I would do it.”