“Like lemon jelly in a mould,” the woman said, thinking aloud. Then, arousing herself to the business at hand, she pursued: “That may be all true enough about religion; but it has nothing to do with Eileen, and the way she’s acting.”
“I asked you to be definite. What has she done that displeased you?”
“Staying at Dr. Schubert’s, three nights in the week—with no woman there except a housekeeper. What will the neighbours say?”
“Have you heard them say anything?”
“No, but they’re likely to. I’m sure I’d think it was queer if Ina Stevens—”
“I wouldn’t suggest it to them. And another thing—I wouldn’t say a word to Eileen—if I were you. She is doing so well that it would break Lary’s heart to have her thrown back on the old life. There is only one danger, as he sees it. She has a strong vein of stubbornness in her nature.”
“Yes, she gets that from her father,” Lavinia snapped.
“No, she doesn’t get it from her father. There is no obstinacy in father, except his stubborn clinging to his ideals. You can’t deal with Eileen as you did with Sylvia, and you’ll play havoc with her if you try.”
“No! Sylvia never caused me a moment’s anxiety in her life.”
Judith ignored the palpable falsehood. “You must know that Eileen couldn’t have finer moral influence than that of Dr. Schubert and his son. And my faithful Nanny is no ordinary servant. She was more to me than my own mother, when I was a girl.”