Eleanor Mowbray was so astonished at the child daring to cross-examine her like that, that she was struck dumb with astonishment.
“Yes, of course you think so,” Aline said, giving her no time to recover herself. “Mistress Mowbray entirely agrees,” she went on, “as every just person would agree. That is so, is it not, Master Gower?” Master Gower bowed assent. “And there is no need to ask you, Cousin Richard.”
“Yes, dear, you are right,” he said.
Aline had swept swiftly round in the order in which she was most sure of adherents, so as to carry away the rest.
“Master Latour,” she continued, “I am sure you will not disagree with them and will say that a proper examination must be held first, and that everything must be done that will stop bitterness and revolt while keeping honesty and order.”
“That is entirely my view,” said Latour, captivated by the child’s skill and the gentle modesty which, in spite of her earnestness, marked every tone and gesture. “Who would have thought,” he said to himself, “that anything so gentle and modest and yet so princess-like withal could be in one combination at the same time?”
Aline was least sure of Bowman, but while looking at him she concluded;—“Then I take it that you all think the same, Master Bowman.”
She had not exactly asked him his own view, and he was sure that if left to himself he would have taken a different line. He was by no means certain that he was not literally spell-bound as he answered;—“Surely, Mistress Aline, we are all of one mind, including my wife, I think I may say.” The lady smiled her complete acquiescence.
“Oh, I am so glad,” Aline said, and slipping from her seat she went up to Master Richard and, in her most irresistible way, put her arm around him, saying:—“And you will let me help you to find out things, won’t you, even though I am only a little girl?”