“Ah, I see! Your sister formed an unfavourable impression of me, and you excuse her by saying it was superficial.”
“I’ve got a great mind to tell you what she said,” remarked Ted.
Maud stopped for a moment, and turned to him.
“Ah, do tell me!”
“She said she thought you weren’t genuine.”
Maud stared for a moment in deep perplexity.
“Not genuine? Why—why, that is exactly what I am! Why did she think that?”
“I just remember her saying that you talked about early celebrations, and covering books for the parish library, as if they were one and the same thing.”
Maud stood still for a moment longer, recalling the scene, and then broke out into a light laugh.
“Oh, I see, I see!” she cried. “Oh dear me, how funny! She had every excuse for thinking that, but she was so wrong. She hasn’t got a picturesque mind, I’m afraid. But I saw the whole picture of her in her life there so clearly. You can talk of a Madonna and the little Italian landscape behind her chair in one breath, can’t you? She thought I regarded them as equally essential. I’m so glad you told me that. I never take offence; I only profit by such things if they are true, and forget them if they are not. There is an atom of truth in this, although, as I say, she was wrong.”