“And please tell her that I am afraid I may forget, and take upon me, as if I were still lady of the house. Tell her I do not mean it, and I hope that she will check it.”
“I think there is no fear of her forgetting that,” said Ethel, regretting the words before they were out of her mouth.
“I hope I shall not,” said Meta. “If I do, I shall drive myself away to stay with Aunt Leonora, and I don’t want to do that at all. So please to make Flora understand that she is head, and I am ready to be hand and foot;” and Meta’s bright smile shone out, with the pleasure of a fresh and loving service.
Ethel understood the force of her father’s words, that it was a brave, vigorous spirit.
Dr. May came back with George, and stayed to dinner, after which he talked over business with Flora, whose sagacity continually amazed him, and who undertook to make her husband understand, and do what was needed.
Meta meanwhile cross-questioned her brother on the pretty village by the Thames, of which she had a fond, childish remembrance, and heard from him of the numerous kind messages from all her relations. There were various invitations, but George repeated them unwillingly.
“You won’t go, Meta,” he said. “It would be a horrid nuisance to part with you.”
“As long as you think so, dear George. When I am in your way, or Flora’s—”
“That will never be! I say, Flora, will she ever be in our way?”
“No, indeed! Meta and I understand that,” said Flora, looking up. “Well, I suppose Bruce can’t be trusted to value the books and prints.”