“He’s as good as we are,” objected Annabel.
“It wasn’t right to hurt his feelings,” said Mary Louise, quietly; “he can’t help being a vegetable boy.”
“Silence, all of you!” returned Mrs. Williams, sternly. “And understand, once for all, that I won’t have you mixing with every low character in the town. If you haven’t any respect for yourselves you must respect your father’s wealth and position—and me.”
There was an ominous silence for a moment. Then said little Gladys:
“Will’s a dood boy; an’ he fixted my dolly’s leg.”
“Fanny! take that rebellious child into the house this minute,” commanded the great lady, pointing a terrible finger at her youngest offspring.
“I don’t want to,” wailed Gladys, resisting the nurse with futile determination.
“Oh, yes you will, dear,” said Mary Louise, softly, as she bent down to the little one. “You must obey mamma, you know. Come,—I’ll go with you.”
“I’ll go with Ma’-Weeze,” said the child, pouting and giving her mother a reproachful glance as she toddled away led by her big sister, with the nurse following close behind.
“A nice, obedient lot of children you are, I must say!” remarked Mrs. Williams, continuing to gather the flowers. “And a credit, also, to your station in life. I sometimes despair of bringing you up properly.”