"Well, since you're all so curious, I'll show you!" And Florence Dombey, with the hectic gaze unchanged, emerged. "There!" said Lydia. "I never shall be too old for Florence Dombey and I thought Margery wouldn't be either—but I was wrong. I wrapped Florence Dombey up because I do look too big for dolls and I don't want folks to laugh at her."
"Of course you're not too big for dolls," said Dave. "You and Margery go on and have your play."
"Daddy!" cried Margery. "Why, I wouldn't touch a doll now."
"There, you see!" said Lydia, laying Florence Dombey on a chair while she pulled on her coat—made this year from one that Lizzie had grown too stout to wear—"It's no use for me to try to be friends any more with Margery. She's rich and I'm common and poor. She has parties and beaux and clothes and I don't. I'll be friends with you but I can't be friends with her."
Dave looked from his two women folks to Lydia. "What've you two been saying now?" he asked gruffly.
Elviry tossed her head. "Nothing at all. I just showed a decent interest in Lydia, as I would in any motherless girl and she got mad."
"Yes, I know your decent interest," grunted Dave. "You make me sick,
Elviry. Why I was ever such a fool as to let you spend a summer in New
York, I don't know."
"Now, Dave," said Elviry in a conciliating tone, "you said that Lydia and Amos ought to be warned about Levine."
"Yes, I did," exclaimed Dave, with a sudden change of voice. "You tell your father to come round and see me this evening, Lydia. I don't like his attitude on the reservation question. Tell him if I can't change his views any other way, I may have to bring pressure with that note."
Lydia blanched. She looked at Marshall with parted lips. She never had heard before the peculiar, metallic quality in his voice that she heard now. She buttoned her coat with trembling fingers.