“I am glad I know you are my mother,” he said, “I always knew.”
He was not sure that the matter was explained very clearly. Not as clearly as things usually were. But he was not really disturbed. He had remembered a book he could show Robin tomorrow and he thought of that. There was also a game in a little box which could be easily carried under his arm. His mother was “thinking” and he was used to that. It came on her sometimes and of his own volition he always, on such occasion, kept as quiet as was humanly possible.
After he was asleep, Helen sent for Nanny.
“You’re tired, ma’am,” the woman said when she saw her, “I’m afraid you’ve a headache.”
“I have had a good deal of thinking to do since this afternoon,” her mistress answered, “You were right about the nurse. The little girl might have been playing with any boy chance sent in her way—boys quite unlike Donal.”
“Yes, ma’am.” And because she loved her and knew her face and voice Nanny watched her closely.
“You will be as—startled—as I was. By some queer chance the child’s mother was driving by and saw us and came in to speak to me. Nanny—she is Mrs. Gareth-Lawless.”
Nanny did start; she also reddened and spoke sharply.
“And she came in and spoke to you, ma’am!”
“Things have altered and are altering every day,” Mrs. Muir said. “Society is not at all inflexible. She has a smart set of her own—and she is very pretty and evidently well provided for. Easy-going people who choose to find explanations suggest that her husband was a relation of Lord Lawdor’s.”