“Yes,” suddenly responded George; “it’s always well to have a capable woman in the house. You are staying at home of course to-day, Rosamund—the right place for you too. I am sure, sir, you must agree with me,” continued George, glancing at my father, “when I say that young women have no business to spend their time gadding about.”
“Much you know about young women,” answered my father. He was about to continue, when I suddenly interrupted.
“And I am going to town this morning,” I said, in my meekest voice, “and father knows all about it, and he has given me leave.”
“Tut! I am not so sure of that,” said my father, with a frown.
“I hope, sir, you will once for all forbid Rose to spend her time in this thoroughly unprofitable, not to say extravagant and improper manner,” said George, his face turning crimson.
“It is not your place to interfere,” said my father.
“And if you give me leave, I may go, may I not, father? You said last night I need not obey George.”
“Most certainly you need not. George, stop that hectoring.”
My father stamped his foot vehemently. George dropped his eyes on to his plate, and I ate my breakfast feeling that my cause was won.
“Rose,” said my mother, when the meal was over, calling me into the drawing-room as she spoke, “are you really going back to London to-day?”