“Oh, hush!” responded the Countess, laughing. “He knows nothing about it, and I don’t intend that he shall, just yet. Trust me to bring things about.”
“But suppose he should be angry?”
“Pure foy! He is never angry with me. Oh, thou dost not understand, my dear Madge,—at present. Men always want managing. When thou hast been wed a year, thou wilt know more about it.”
“But can all women manage men?” asked Marjory in an amused tone.
“Ha, chétife! No, indeed. And there are some men who can’t be managed,—worse luck! But my Lord is not one of the latter, the holy saints be thanked.”
“And thou art one of the women who can manage men,” answered Marjory, laughing. “I wonder at thee, Magot, and have done so many times,—thou hast such a strange power of winning folks to thy will.”
“Well, that some have, and some have not. I have it, I know,” said the Countess, complacently. “But I will give thee a bit of counsel, Madge, which thou mayest find useful. First, have a will: let it be clear and distinct in thine own mind, what thou wouldst have done. And, secondly, let people see that thou takest quietly for granted that of course they will do it. There is a great deal in that, with some people. A weak will always bends to a strong.”
“But when two strong ones come in collision, how then?”
“Why, like wild animals,—fight it out, and discover which is the stronger.”
“A tournament of wills!” said Marjory. “I should hardly care to enter those lists, I think.”