“He had no right, no right!” cried Teresa hotly.
“Ah!”
“I—who have only tried to look at him with Sylvia’s eyes, for Sylvia’s sake!”
“There you have it,” said Mrs Brodrick, with a smile. “The poor man was bewildered between two sets of eyes. I’m much more charitable, and so I’m not surprised.”
“You’re very nearly as bad as he!” cried Teresa indignantly. “And, oh, what shall we do to stop Mary Maxwell’s remarks!”
“Let her make them, I suppose; they will finish the sooner.”
“There will be a great many to endure before they finish.”
“Life is made up of such endurances,” said her grandmother patiently. “She can talk to me. I am old and dull; but a figure-head will serve at a stretch for a listener, and always has the advantage of not answering back again.”
“And after all,” said Teresa hopefully, “her being with us is more cheerful for Sylvia. I think, poor dear, we shall be able to make her happy again in a little while—when he is well out of the way, as he will be soon.”
Mrs Brodrick took up her knitting.