“Oh, I don’t mind,” answered May.
“It’s impossible to have birds every day,” remarked her stepmother, decidedly, and then nothing more was said on the subject, and May went without her dinner, for which, however, she did not care.
But she did care about her stepmother’s constant interference. She had been accustomed to be her own mistress for years; to go out when it pleased her, and to read or write just as it took her fancy. Now Mrs. Churchill wished to change all this. She insisted on her going out shopping with herself; she found fault with her dress; and when she read, said she was wasting her time.
May tried for her father’s sake to put up with all this, but it was very annoying; then the two boys, Willie and Hal, returned home, and Mrs. Churchill tried to manage them also. Willie, who was a spoilt, rather passionate boy, was furious, but Hal suggested that as she kept the key of the jam closet, they had better be civil.
Then another disturbing element arose in the household for May. This was no less than the renewal of Tom Henderson’s now most unwelcome attentions. Henderson’s passion for her had by no means diminished in the changed circumstances of his life. Nay, he told himself that it was for her sake that he had acted as he had done. And taking advantage of Mr. Churchill’s known love for making a good bargain, he arrived at Woodside one day under the excuse that he wanted to buy a horse.
Mr. Churchill received the would-be purchaser quite civilly. And Henderson gave a long price for a very ordinary animal. Mr. Churchill was so pleased that he invited the young man into the house to have a glass of wine, and Henderson was only too delighted to avail himself of the chance of once more seeing May.
And he did see her, and also her stepmother. Mrs. Churchill was a shrewd woman, and her sharp, dark eyes speedily perceived that Henderson was deeply in love with May. He sat with his handsome dark eyes fixed on her fair face during the whole time he was in the room, and after he was gone Mrs. Churchill made particular inquiries about him.
“So,” she said, “this is the young man, is he, for whose sake that foolish girl at the Wayside Inn shot herself?”
“I have no doubt he behaved very badly to her,” replied May.
“How can you possibly tell that, my dear? A girl in her position could not expect him to marry her; he is a very nice, fine-looking young man. Does he often come here?”