As they went out, two or three bronzed men were standing outside the door. Andrea had come up his steps and was haranguing them, but when they saw Beatrice they started forward and poured out a torrent of words. Phillis could not understand the rapid patois, but there were tears in their eyes, and they were evidently imploring, entreating. Bice listened coldly; once or twice she said something at which they redoubled their protestations. When finally she yielded, one of them, the chief spokesman, stepped forward, caught her hand, and kissed it fervently. It was like a scene of another age, Phillis thought, the young girl and the men watching her as if she had been a queen.
“I think perhaps they will behave better to the oxen for a little while,” Bice said, as they went away in delight.
“How much they care for you!”
“They care for the work, too; it is of great consequence in these bad times. But they are very faithful and affectionate, poor fellows!”
Miss Preston shook her head. She told Phillis as she drove home that Bice’s weakness in forgiving the contadini had convinced her that no woman should enter on the prerogative of her rights before the age of thirty years, when it might be considered that her judgment would be matured, and Phillis, who was pale and rather silent, did not attempt to contradict her. Miss Preston having her own views about Jack’s conduct very strongly outlined, glanced at her.
“Nothing can be worse for those two young girls than the sort of undisciplined life they lead, with a mother absolutely without energy or character,” she said decidedly. “If I had remained here I might have been of some service to them, if one ever can be of service to wilful girls. But in these days it is almost hopeless.”
“Bice is most lovable,” said Phillis eagerly. “I don’t think it has spoilt her one bit. Besides, what can be more simple than their life?”
“Oh, simple, I dare say!” Miss Preston said darkly. “You have had very little experience of the world, my dear.”
“I suppose so,” said Phillis smiling. “When people say that, one never knows what to answer. When does the experience come, I wonder; and what makes the world? Is it anything very different from what one lives in every day?”
Miss Preston found it difficult to define, and looked shocked.