“No, it wouldn’t have done Eunice any harm to tell that much, Mollie,” Ruth agreed, “because, if that very determined Mrs. Latham wishes to discover where little Eunice is, she will certainly accomplish it. Why, she rules her grown-up son with a rod of iron!”
“Mark my words!” said Grace, joining quietly in the conversation—Grace was not often given to expressing an opinion, so even Miss Sallie listened to her with respect. “I would like to bet a great big box of candy that Mrs. Latham sees Eunice and her Indian grandmother before they are many weeks older. The Lathams have some connection with little Eunice, though goodness knows I can’t guess what it is.”
Mollie had nothing more to say. She was in the motor car now. Her tears could flow freely.
Miss Sallie pretended, for a few moments, not to see that Mollie was crying. A breach in social etiquette was a sore offense to Miss Stuart. But after a little while she put her arm around the little girl and gave her a gentle squeeze.
“I will forgive you, this time, dear,” she murmured, “but I never want you, Mollie, to be rude to a grown person again. And I don’t think, my dear, it is a good idea to have a suspicious nature.”
“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Mollie sighed, putting her head against Miss Stuart’s arm. “I was only trying not to tell Mrs. Latham what she wanted to know.” Because it was now dark, and Mollie could not see her face, Miss Sallie smiled.