May said nothing more. She went to her own room, and after locking the door sat down to do what she did every hour of the day—to think of John Temple. Oh! how she longed for his return. She had made her decision; the decision that he had asked for in his letter, and was ready to brave everything for his sake. But he had been gone nearly a month, and she had heard nothing of or from him. Still she did not doubt his word nor his love. He would come back and then how different everything would seem.
But she had not heard the last of young Henderson’s visit. When she went down to supper both her father and her stepmother received her very coldly. Then when the meal was over her father spoke to her very seriously.
“May,” he said, after he had taken a few puffs at his pipe, “your mother tells me you have been acting very foolishly and not treating her with the respect which is her due, and which I will insist on from everyone in this house.”
“If you mean about Mr. Henderson,” answered May, turning very red, “I refuse to have anything to say to him.”
“You should take the advice of those older than yourself; your mother—”
“Mrs. Churchill is not my mother,” said May, hotly; “poor mother, I am sure, would never have urged me to encourage a man with Mr. Henderson’s character.”
Mr. Churchill got very angry.
“Don’t be so impertinent, girl!” he said. “I’ll tell you what it is, May, if you go on in this way you may find another home for yourself, for I won’t have you in mine!”
“Very well, father, I will,” answered May, and she rose and left the room, and the husband and wife were alone.
“I am afraid you have spoilt her, William,” said Mrs. Churchill.