"Of course she is! She has every reason for happiness. She fretted for her mother and brothers for a while, no doubt; but I believe we are slowly weaning her from them."
Miss Holcroft made a faint gesture of dissent, which her sister noticed with a frown.
"You do not agree with me, Mary?"
"I do not, Pamela. Marigold is as fond of them as she ever was, but naturally she has got over the first pangs of separation. She writes home regularly once a fortnight, and though she does not say so, I am sure she simply longs for her letters in return. It is my private opinion that the fact that she rarely mentions her mother's name makes her dwell on her in her thoughts more than she would otherwise. Poor Rupert's wife brought up his daughter well; that we must acknowledge."
Miss Holcroft had spoken with unwonted firmness hitherto; now she looked at her sister with appealing eyes, as she added in rather faltering accents—
"I think that our not being on friendly terms with the mother puts the child in a false position, and gives people wrong impressions."
"What can you mean, Mary?" Miss Pamela asked sharply. "I fail to understand you."
In a few words Miss Holcroft gave her sister an account of the statement Muriel Wake had circulated about Marigold's mother some weeks before.
"Why was I not told at the time?" Miss Pamela demanded.
"I should have known nothing about it myself, Pamela, if I had not discovered poor little Marigold in her bedroom crying as though her heart would break. I asked for an explanation; I am quite sure she had not intended to tell either of us. I believe she is on good terms with most of her schoolfellows now; but I often think of the unkind construction people may be putting on our behaviour to the child's mother."