When he had gone the mother and daughter sat bolt upright in their chairs and stared before them in a pregnant silence; and Ida, wondering what was the matter, was about to leave the room, when Mrs. Heron said in a hard, thin voice:
"One moment, Ida, if you please."
Ida paused at the door with her book in her hand, startled from her dreaminess by the woman's tone and manner.
"You had better close the door, Ida. I should not like the servants to overhear what it is my duty to say to you."
Ida closed the door and stood expectantly, and Mrs. Heron continued:
"I trust I am not one to find fault unnecessarily. I know it is the duty of a Christian to be patient and long-suffering; but there is a limit to one's endurance, and I regret to say that you have passed that limit. I should not be fulfilling my duty to a young person who is under my charge if I refrained from pointing out to you that your conduct, since you have been under our roof, has been reprehensible and disgraceful."
Ida was too amazed for a moment to realise the full significance of the spiteful speech; and then, as it gradually dawned upon her, the blood rose to her face and an indignant protest rose to her lips; but she checked it, and merely repeated the objectionable phrase.
"Yes, disgraceful," said Mrs. Heron. "I am sorry to be compelled to use such a word to a young girl and to one in your position; and I do not think you make matters better by pretending not to know what I mean."
"It is no pretence, Mrs. Heron," said Ida, quite calmly. "I do not in the least know what you mean."
"Then I'll tell you," retorted Mrs. Heron, with suppressed fury. "You are one of the most shameless flirts I ever knew."