“She is indeed. Mr. Rose is such a particularly judicious, upright man. The Vicar has the highest respect for him.”
Mrs. Bonnington paused, to give full effect to this noble encomium. Mrs. Rose acknowledged it by a graceful bend of the head, and went on:
“The great failing about poor Mabin is that she is not womanly. And that is the one thing above all that my husband asks of a woman. Let her only be womanly, he always says, and I will forgive everything else. Now my own girls are that, above everything.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Mrs. Bonnington with decision; “but that is just the fault of our age, Mrs. Rose. Girls are no longer brought up to be contented to be girls. They must put themselves on the same footing with their brothers. Mabin is in the fashion. And no doubt that is all she desires. You see how this Mrs. Dale has caught hold of her imagination, by nothing but her fashionable clothes!”
Mrs. Rose put on a womanly air of absolute helplessness:
“Well, what can I do?” said she.
Mrs. Bonnington came a little nearer.
“In the case of this Mrs. Dale,” said she in a lower voice, “go on just as you have begun. Do not call upon her. Do not have anything to do with her. To tell you the truth, it was about her that I came to see you this morning. She has already brought mischief into our own peaceful home. She is a dangerous woman.”
“Dear me! You don’t mean that!” said Mrs. Rose with vivid interest.
“Unhappily I do. My son Rudolph came back from his ship only ten days ago, and already he can think of nothing but this Mrs. Dale.”