“God knows why I didn’t,” she said.
The elder gave a little gasp and did not answer.
“It’s wrong when you have to correct your husband in front of another man,” continued Medora; “but I’ve got my self respect I believe—so far—and I won’t let Ned say foolish things before people and let others think I’m agreeing with him. And if I’ve spoken sharp when men or women at the works heard me, Ned’s got himself to thank for it. Anyway Jordan knows I’m not without brains, and I’m not going to pretend I am. I laughed at Ned in the boat yesterday, and he said after that he didn’t mind my laughing at him, but he wouldn’t have it before people.”
Mrs. Trivett left the main issue as a subject too big for the moment.
“You ought not to laugh at him before Mr. Kellock,” she said; “because he’s one of them serious-minded men who don’t understand laughter. I’ve seen a man say things in a light mood that had no sting in them really, yet one of the humourless sort, listening, didn’t see it was said for fun, and reported it after and made trouble. Kellock’s a solemn man and would misread it if you scored off Ned, or said some flashy thing that meant nought in truth. You know what I mean.”
They had strolled to the top of the orchard now, where the children were playing in the Priory ruin. And here at dusk they parted.
“We’ll leave it till we can have another talk,” said Lydia; “seemingly there’s more to talk about than I thought. Be patient as well as proud, Medora. And don’t feel so troubled about Ned that you haven’t got no spare time to look into your own heart and see if you’re satisfied with yourself. Because very often in my experience, when we’re seeing misfortune and blaming other people, if we look at home, we’ll find the source of the trouble lies with ourselves and not them.”