“There is no doubt of it now. The red tape has been all measured off, and only a few matters of form are left before she comes into her own.”
Mrs. Nixon sat in silence for a time.
“You know her so much better than I do, Henry,” she said at last, tentatively.
“Yes,” Mr. Derwent gave a quiet exclamation. “She is an excellent piece of mechanism. Her mind is as well ordered as her toilet. Not a hair out of place.”
The speaker’s manner and tone reassured his sister so far that she could give her thought to consideration of the girl in this new light, and to wondering what impression her own treatment had made upon her. Miss Maynard’s opinion would now be of importance. Mrs. Nixon was grateful that noblesse oblige, and that she could never be less than courteous to an inferior; a great convenience when one considers that an inferior sometimes surprises with as sudden a rise into prominence as is accomplished by a jack-in-the-box.
“And your idea, Henry—” she asked again.
“Was simply,” he answered, “that in her changed circumstances Helen will require the guidance of some older woman. There will be no ‘back to the farm’ for her, and I suspect that the old people will not wish to change their manner of living.”
“Will she have very much?”
Mr. Derwent nodded. “Enough to make me glad her head is so level.”
“She must be exceedingly attached and very grateful to you,” said Mrs. Nixon, after a thoughtful pause, during which she tried to remember just how repressive her manner had been to her quiet companion.