Clarissa saw no reason why Marvel should not remain with her. A couple of legacies had increased her small income to the point where she might have dispensed with her irregular and uncertain earnings, had these not represented an effort that was the essence of life to her. She could even afford, for a time, the inconsistent luxury of an idle daughter; but if Marvel desired to exercise her teacher's gift, why not do so in Chicago?
"How comfortable we are!" said Clarissa, drowsily and happily. "That blue dress is very becoming to you, {195} child. I believe we can't do better than to keep this flat for next winter. I wonder if we could n't arrange with Myra Ann to come back in the fall? We could pay her half-wages while we were out of town. Her cooking seems to agree with my stomach better than I dared suppose any home cooking could!"
"Why, mother! You forget I am still an instructor-elect at Midwest. I must go to my work in September."
Clarissa started up against her pillows and spoke with her usual vehemence and directness.
"I do not wish you to go back to Midwest, Marvel. I want you to stay with me. I have had too little of my daughter's society in my life."
The girl dropped her work and faced her mother. "That, mother, is hardly my fault."
{196}
Their glances met and crossed, rapier-like, with the words. Apprehension seized Clarissa. She did not fathom the meaning of Marvel's gaze.
"Do you mean it is my fault, Marvel?"
Her daughter kept silence. For almost the first time in her life, the older woman felt herself compelled to valiant self-defense.