When she brought the water Mrs Aldworth was lying with cool, freshly arranged pillows under her head, her hair combed smoothly back from her discontented fare, and Marcia now having mixed a little aromatic vinegar with the warm water, proceeded to bathe her hot cheeks and to cool her white hands.
The tea itself was a surprise and a delight. There were hot cakes which Marcia had made in the kitchen; fragrant tea, real cream, thin bread and butter. Mrs Aldworth admitted that it was a treat.
“You’re a wonderful girl, Marcia,” she said, “and notwithstanding the fact that you have behaved in a very cruel and unnatural way, I forgive you. Yes, I forgive you, and I shall thoroughly forgive you and let bygones be bygones if you will give Molly her freedom for the rest of this afternoon, and sit with me yourself. I can explain a few little things to you then, which will cause the hearts of my three dear girls to leap for joy.”
“Oh, mother, can you?”
Molly’s blue eyes danced. She looked with a sense of triumph, half amusement and half daring, from her mother to Marcia. But, alas, Marcia’s face showed not the slightest sign of yielding.
“I think, mother,” she said, “that you and I must wait for our conversation until to-morrow afternoon. I am exceedingly busy just now, and Molly knows our compact. Have you finished your tea, Molly? If so, I will take away the tray. Good-bye, mother, for the present. Good-bye, Molly.”
As quickly as she had come so did the angel of order and comfort retire. Mrs Aldworth was now in a fury.
“Really, Molly,” she said, “this is insufferable. I would much rather she went altogether. To think of her daring to go against my wishes in my own house.” But bad as things were at present, Molly knew that if Marcia went they would be worse. A certain amount of freedom could now be safely claimed, but if Marcia went things would go on in their slovenly, slipshod, good-for-nothing style; the invalid’s bell always ringing, the girls never at liberty, the house always in disorder.
“Oh, mother,” said Molly, “don’t rouse her; she is capable of anything, I assure you. She has given us just a month to be on our trial, and she says that if we don’t do our part in that time she will return to Frankfort. That horrid Miss Silchester has turned her head, and that’s a fact. She has praised her and petted her and made much of her, and would you believe it, mother, she has absolutely offered to keep the post open for Marcia for a whole month. Mother, dear, do be careful what you say to her, for, I assure you, she has no heart. She would actually allow us three girls—” Molly stopped to gulp down a sob—“to wear ourselves to death, rather than to do one little thing to help us. It’s awfully cruel, I call it. Oh, mother, it is cruel.”
Now all this was from Molly’s point of view, and so it happened that Mrs Aldworth, for the time being, took her child’s part; she did not think of herself. Besides, Marcia had dared to defy her authority, and a sensation of fury visited her.