“Your mother shall pour it out for me. Go, my dear—go.”
“Only, mother, is it necessary that we should not ask the Challoners because Molly is naughty? The rest of us would like to have them.”
“I will let you know presently, Linda,” said her mother; and Linda was obliged, to her disgust, to leave the room.
“Now, then, my dear,” said Mr. Hartrick, “I don't at all like to call you over the coals; but I think it is a pity to speak against Molly so much as you do in her sister's presence. Linda is getting eaten up with conceit; she will be an intolerable woman by and by, so self-opinionated, and so pleased with herself. After all, poor Molly may have the best of it in the future; she is a fine child, notwithstanding her naughtiness.”
“I thought it likely you would take her part, George; and I am sorry,” answered Mrs. Hartrick in a melancholy tone; “but I am grieved to tell you that there is something else to follow. That little Irish girl is quite as cheeky, even more cheeky than Molly. I fear I must ask you to say a word to her; I shall require her to be respectful to me while she is here. She spoke very rudely to me just now, simply because I found it my duty to correct Molly.”
“Oh, that won't do at all,” said Mr. Hartrick. “I must speak to Nora.”
“I wish you would do so.”
“I will. By the way, Grace, what a pretty creature she is!”
“She is a beautiful little wildflower,” said Mrs. Hartrick. “I have taken a great fancy to her, notwithstanding her rudeness. She has never had the smallest care; she has simply been allowed to grow up wild.”
“Well, Nature has taken care of her,” said Mr. Hartrick.