"But I do like him. I like him better than any man I ever knew."
"Oh, yes! Better than the cowboys or the old chaplain at Loretto. That's no good."
All this Sarella intended as medicinal; Mariquita, she thought, ought to have some of the chill of the late storm. She was not entitled to immediate and complete relief from suspense. But Sarella was beginning to feel a little chill about the legs herself, and did not care to risk a cold, so she abbreviated her disciplinary remarks a little.
"I'm a good stepmother," she remarked complacently, "not at all like one in a novel. I took your part."
"Did you!" Mariquita cried gratefully; "it was very, very kind of you."
"I don't approve of men having things all their own way—whether fathers or husbands. He has been knocked under to too much. Yes, I took your part, and made him understand that if he kept the row up he'd have three of us against him."
"What did you say?"
"All sorts of things. Never mind. Perhaps Mr. Gore will tell you—only he won't. He said a lot of things too. We made your father think he would be wicked if he went on bullying you."
Of course, Mariquita did not understand how this had been effected.
"He would not do anything wicked," she said; "he is a very good man."