"At any rate it isn't to Cynthia, that I know positively," said Molly with some vehemence. "And pray put a stop to any such reports; you don't know what mischief they may do. I do so hate that kind of chatter!" It was not very respectful of Molly to speak in this way to be sure, but she thought only of Roger; and the distress any such reports might cause, should he ever hear of them (in the centre of Africa!) made her colour up scarlet with vexation.
"Heighty-teighty! Miss Molly! don't you remember that I am old enough to be your mother, and that it is not pretty behaviour to speak so to us—to me! 'Chatter' to be sure. Really, Molly—"
"I beg your pardon," said Molly, only half-penitent.
"I daresay you did not mean to speak so to sister," said Miss Phœbe, trying to make peace.
Molly did not answer all at once. She wanted to explain how much mischief might be done by such reports.
"But don't you see," she went on, still flushed by vexation, "how bad it is to talk of such things in such a way? Supposing one of them cared for some one else, and that might happen, you know; Mr. Preston, for instance, may be engaged to some one else?"
"Molly! I pity the woman! Indeed I do. I have a very poor opinion of Mr. Preston," said Miss Browning, in a warning tone of voice; for a new idea had come into her head.
"Well, but the woman, or young lady, would not like to hear such reports about Mr. Preston."
"Perhaps not. But for all that, take my word for it, he's a great flirt, and young ladies had better not have much to do with him."
"I daresay it was all accident their meeting in Heath Lane," said Miss Phœbe.