“That’s what I’m doing, if you could see it,” answered Lydia. “It’s only a matter for religion, so far, and the welfare of the young folk. I’m thinking for them and their characters. It would be a poor come-along-of-it, Tom, if years hence you and Polly was to turn round and say that I had marred your children’s natures.”
“We’re the best judge of that,” he answered. “And if we’re satisfied with your way of handling the children, whose business is it to put all these wicked ideas in your head? God’s truth! I never heard of such impudence. And you, at your age—as if you didn’t know what was duty and what was not. Perhaps ’tis thought you spoil us as well as our children, and give everything and get nothing in exchange?”
He snorted with indignation when Lydia admitted that this was actually the case.
“Some do think so for that matter,” she confessed.
Her brother honestly felt this to be an undeserved blow. He had built up a very different picture of Lydia’s existence and believed that her privileges at Priory Farm at least balanced any advantages that accrued from her presence. This, however, was what Mary understood very much better than Tom. She dwelt under no delusion on the subject and fully appreciated the significance of her sister-in-law in the cosmic scheme.
“If that’s the sort of thing outsiders say and you believe, then the sooner you’re gone from my roof, the better pleased I shall be,” shouted Mr. Dolbear. “I was under the impression that after your husband died, Lydia, you turned to me for comfort and put me first henceforth, and felt that this was a blessed haven for your middle age. But, of course, if I’m wrong and you’re only a slave and I’m only a slave-driver, then—”
He stopped, for Mary did an uncommon thing and suddenly burst into an explosion of noisy tears.
“There!” said Mr. Dolbear tragically, “look at your work!”
“It ain’t Lydia,” wept the other, “it’s you. I never was so cut to the heart in all my life, and I can’t stand much more of it. Lydia’s as much a part of this house as the door handles, and dearer to me, next to my children and you, than anything on God’s earth; and when you talk of her going away from us, you might as well talk of cutting off my leg. We’re three in one and one in three, you and Lydia and me, and the man or woman who came between us would be doing the devil’s work and ought to be treated according.”
“There’s a heart!” said Mr. Dolbear. “If that ain’t offering the other cheek, Lydia—”