“Well?”
“Well, that was it. She saw you had no confidence in her.”
“Ethel, what on earth can you mean? I saw the two children dragging on her, and I thought she would see nothing that was going on, and would be glad to be released; and I wanted them to go with me and see Meta’s gold pheasants.”
“That was the offence. She has been breaking her heart all this time, because she was sure, from your manner, that you were displeased to see them alone with her—eating bon-bons, I believe, and therefore took them away.”
“Daisy is the worse for her bon-bons, I believe, but the overdose of them rests on my shoulders. I do not know how to believe you, Ethel. Of course you told her nothing of the kind crossed my mind, poor thing!”
“I told her so, over and over again, as I have done forty times before but her feelings are always being hurt.”
“Poor thing, poor thing! no doubt it is a trying situation, and she is sensitive. Surely you are all forbearing with her?”
“I hope we are,” said Ethel; “but how can we tell what vexes her?”
“And what is this, of your telling her she was ill-tempered?” asked Dr. May incredulously.
“Well, papa,” said Ethel, softened, yet wounded by his thinking it so impossible. “I had often thought I ought to tell her that these sensitive feelings of hers were nothing but temper; and perhaps—indeed I know I do—I partake of the general fractiousness of the house to-day, and I did not bear it so patiently as usual. I did say that I thought it wrong to foster her fancies; for if she looked at them coolly, she would find they were only a form of pride and temper.”