“In short, Maria, you have never come across such absolutely wicked children as the Maybrights and Dalrymples?”
“No, Andrew—never! never!”
“It is lucky they are not your children?”
“Thank Heaven!”
“Would it not be well to leave them to me? I am accustomed to them.”
“Yes; I wash my hands of you all; or no—not quite of you all—I heap coals of fire on your head, Andrew; I offer to relieve you of the charge of Daisy Rymple.”
“Of Flower?—but she is one of the worst of us.”
Here Flower ran over, crouched down by the Doctor, and put one of her hands into his.
“But I will be good with you,” she said with a half-sob.
“Hear her,” said the Doctor. “She says she will be good with me. Perhaps, after all, Maria, I can manage my own children better than any one else can.”