Her uncle puffed himself up to an alarming degree as he spoke, but Marion controlled her feeling of disgust by a powerful effort.
“Is it anything against poor Dollie that she should have been hypnotized by that fiend?” she cried, earnestly. “Or is it anything to my discredit that I should have been tricked by scoundrels? We are only children, Aunt Susan! What do we know of the world? Why, we are both as innocent as the very field daisies at home, yet you scorn us for our misfortunes—you ridicule our sorrow!”
“We cannot afford to get entangled in this thing, Frederic,” said her aunt, without heeding her appeal.
“We certainly cannot,” said her husband, decidedly. “Once for all, Marion, you must excuse us from meddling in the matter.”
“So you refuse utterly to aid me in my search for Dollie?” asked Marion, breathlessly.
Frederic Stanton drew a bill from his pocket slowly and tossed it to her across the table.
“You can have that,” he said grandly, “but please don’t count upon me further. My position in society would be attacked at once were I to allow myself to be exploited in this manner.”
“Don’t mention our names, for heaven’s sake!” cried her aunt. “I would die of mortification if I should see this thing in the papers.”
Without noticing the bill, Marion rose to her feet. The scorn upon her face made her relations shrink a little.
“I’m only a country girl—a farmer’s daughter,” she said slowly, “but, oh, how I despise such natures as yours! You are a shame to your sex, Mrs. Susan Stanton, and as for you, sir, you are not worthy to be called a man.”