“I can’t bear fine folks.”
“They are anything but fine!” cried Babie indignantly.
“They can’t help it. That way of Lord Fordham’s, high-breeding I suppose you call it, just makes me wild. I hate it!”
“Poor Ellie. You’ll have to get over it, for Essie’s sake.”
“No, I shan’t. It is really losing her, as much as Jessie—”
“Jessie looks worn.”
“No wonder. Jessie was a goose. Mamma told her to marry that old man, and she just did it because she was told, and now he is always ordering her about, and worries and fidgets about everything in the house. I wish one’s sisters would have more sense and not marry.”
Which sentiment poor Ellie uttered just as Sydney was entering by an unexpected open door into the next room, and she observed, “Exactly! It is the only consolation for not having a sister that she can’t go and marry! O Ellie, I am so sorry for you.”
This somewhat softened Ellie, and she was restored to a pitch of endurance by the time Essie was escorted into the room by both the mothers.
That polished courtesy of Fordham’s which Ellie so much disliked had quite won the heart of her mother, who, having viewed him from a distance as an obstacle in Esther’s way, now underwent a revulsion of feeling, and when he treated her with marked distinction, and her daughter with brotherly kindness, was filled with mingled gratitude, admiration and compunction.