“Linda dear, run after your sister, and tell her that, for her impertinence to me, she is to remain in her room until dinner-time.”
“Oh! please forgive her this time; she didn't mean it really,” burst from Nora's lips.
“Nora!” said Mrs. Hartrick.
“Oh! I am sorry for her; please forgive her.”
“Nora!” repeated her aunt again.
“It is because you do not understand her that she goes on like that; she is such a fine girl, twice—twice as fine as Linda. Oh, I do wish you would forgive her!”
“Thank you,” said Linda in a mocking voice. She had got as far as the door, and had overheard Nora's words. She now glanced at her mother, as much as to say, “I told you so,” and left the room.
Nora had jumped to her feet. She had forgotten prudence; she had forgotten politeness; her eyes were bright with suppressed fire, and her glib Irish tongue was eager to enter into the fray.
“I must speak out,” she said. “Molly is more like me than anybody else in this house, and I must take her part. She would be a very, very good girl if she were understood.”
“What are your ideas with regard to understanding Molly?” said Mrs. Hartrick in that very calm and icy voice which irritated poor Nora almost past endurance. She was speechless for a moment, struggling with fresh emotion.