‘That’s how you always break out. You don’t care what unkindness you say!’
‘It’s a simple truth.’
‘Dora never speaks like that.’
‘Because she’s afraid to be honest.’
‘No, because she has too much love for her mother. I can’t bear to talk to you, Maud. The older I get, and the weaker I get, the more unfeeling you are to me.’
Scenes of this kind were no uncommon thing. The clash of tempers lasted for several minutes, then Maud flung out of the room. An hour later, at dinner-time, she was rather more caustic in her remarks than usual, but this was the only sign that remained of the stormy mood.
Jasper renewed the breakfast-table conversation.
‘Look here,’ he began, ‘why don’t you girls write something? I’m convinced you could make money if you tried. There’s a tremendous sale for religious stories; why not patch one together? I am quite serious.’
‘Why don’t you do it yourself,’ retorted Maud.
‘I can’t manage stories, as I have told you; but I think you could. In your place, I’d make a speciality of Sunday-school prize-books; you know the kind of thing I mean. They sell like hot cakes. And there’s so deuced little enterprise in the business. If you’d give your mind to it, you might make hundreds a year.’