"Oh! I thought Mr. Marriott might have done it. It's certainly very silly."
Nora had brought her breakfast, and the action recalled Gusta to Elizabeth.
"What did papa say--about my going to the prison?"
"He said," Mrs. Ward began gladly, "that, of course, we all felt very sorry for Gusta, but that you couldn't go there. He said it would be absurd; that you don't understand." Mrs. Ward was silent for a moment, knowing how much greater the father's influence was than her own. She was glad that Elizabeth seemed altogether docile and practicable this morning.
"There's a good girl now," Mrs. Ward added in the hope of pressing her advantage home.
Elizabeth gave a little start of irritability.
"I wish you wouldn't talk to me in that way, mama. I'm not a child."
"But surely your father knows best, dear," the mother insisted, "more than--we do."
"Not necessarily," said Elizabeth.
"Why! How can you say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward, who bowed to all authority as a part of her religion.