Mrs. Leonard Claghorn had been graciously received by the matrons of Hampton. She was so interesting (they said), so foreign; and careful cross-examination of those who had penetrated into the inner sanctuaries of the Morley mansion had established the fact that there was not a crucifix in the house. On the whole, the matrons were content. Surely, the wife of a young professor, so thoroughly grounded in the faith as was Leonard—though his prominence in the Seminary, in view of his youth, might be deprecated by some—such a one could not remain heretical, even if her religious education had been defective. How awfully defective these excellent ladies did not know.
On her part, Natalie had been no less gracious. "She'll be one of them in a year," said Mrs. Joe, alluding to the matrons. "She'll be whatever Leonard says."
"I wish Father Cameril could talk with her," sighed Paula.
"He lost his chance when he contradicted Leonard at my dinner."
"She certainly is very loyal to her husband," admitted Paula.
"Altogether too subservient," observed Mrs. Joe testily. "No woman should permit her whole nature to be absorbed in that manner. No wonder he's bumptious."
"Bumptious!"
"Conceited. Pliancy, Paula, is a virtue in a wife. I was pliant myself; still the most devoted of wives ought to have an opinion of her own."
"Natalie is so sweet," urged the extenuating Paula.
"Sweet! So are you; so was I; so was Tabitha Cone to the man that gave her that monstrous watch—but sweetness may be sickening."