She dropped the dominie's hand, and settled herself in his desk chair again. It was impossible to shake off the confidential air she had imparted to the interview. David was not sure that Alice was not making a mistake. He hesitated, seeking some word that would deny that 'Thusia had not done all she should have done for Alice. What he wanted to tell Lucille Hardcome was that he and 'Thusia were quite able to manage Alice's affairs, but it was necessary to tell Lucille more than politely, and he felt at heart that Lucille was perhaps right—someone should have guided Alice's choice a little.
“I know you think so,” Lucille said without waiting for his reply. “I know just how you feel. I feel the same—quite as if Alice was my own daughter; we all feel as if Alice was that; the daughter of the church. Not but what this young man may be thoroughly praiseworthy, Mr. Dean, but is he the son-in-law our dominie should have! Oh, no! No!”
In anything he said in Lanny's favor, David must be on the defensive. He did not know enough of the young man yet to speak with unbounded enthusiasm or calm certainty.
“My short interview with him was quite satisfactory,” he said. “In the essentials he seems to meet any reasonable requirements. His manner is manly.”
Lucille interrupted him.
“Oh, all that, of course! Alice is not a baby, she would not choose anyone utterly impossible, I dare say.” Then, leaning toward David, she said: “Mr. Dean, you know and I know that Alice ought not marry this Lanny, or whatever his name is. This Welsh—do you know what his father is? He's an awful creature. You know Alice can't be permitted to marry into such a family. Now, please,” she urged, “just leave it all to me. Men can't manage such things, and poor dear 'Thusia—”
“But, my dear Mrs. Hardcome,” David began. “Oh, my dear Mrs. Nonsense!” she cried, rising and mocking him. “I think it is about time someone took you in hand, David Dean; I think it is just about time! 'Thusia is a dear soul, and Mary and Rose are dear souls too, but the whole lot of you haven't enough worldly gumption to say boo to a goose. You'd sit here and let Alice marry a bartender (well, then, an ex-bartender!) and you wouldn't see it would be the ruin of the whole lot of us, and of him, too, or if you did see it you wouldn't raise a hand.”
She spoke rapidly but without excitement; teasingly.
“Mr. Dean,” she continued in a more serious tone, “I am worldly and I know the world. Alice must not marry this young fellow; she must not! And she is not going to!”
“But, Mrs. Hardcome,” cried David, thoroughly frightened. “I cannot let you interfere in what is so completely a family matter.”