"No," he said, "I do not stay up very often. I came home to-day in the noon train to give the children a drive this afternoon; but I found when I reached home, that they had gone off with the servants on a picnic. Perhaps you knew about it? I own I was surprised."
"No," said Missy, flushing more deeply, "I did not know anything about it, till they had gone away, and I disapproved it very much; not that I have any right to approve or disapprove; but I am very fond of Jay—and—and—oh, Mr. Andrews, I wonder if you would think it unpardonable if I said something to you!"
Mr. Andrews may have doubted whether he should think what she had to say very agreeable; but he was too gentlemanly to intimate it. She looked so eager and interested, and it was all about his boy. So he said indefinitely, that she was only too good to the children, and it was impossible for him to think anything she said unpardonable.
Missy, with an underlying conviction that she was doing the precise thing that she had made up her mind not to do—rushed on with a hurried statement of the picnic facts; how Gabby had known the plan for two or three days, and had closely guarded the secret; how provisions had been put over night in the sail-boat, and the champagne carried down in the early dawn; and how dear little Jay, carried away by the tide of excitement, and tutored by the infamous maids, had actually told her a falsehood, and explained to her the night before that she need not look for him in the morning, for he should be in town all day with his papa, who was going to take him to the dentist. Mr. Andrews uttered an exclamation at this last statement, and ground his cane into the ground at the root of the cedar-tree. "Poor little Jay," said Missy, looking ready to cry. "Think what a course of evil he must have been put through to have been induced to say that. Gabrielle I am not surprised at. She isn't truthful. It doesn't seem to be her nature. I—I—didn't mean to say that exactly."
"You needn't mind," said her companion, bitterly. "I am afraid it is the truth."
"But Jay," said Missy, hurriedly, "is so sweet natured, and so clear and honest, I can't think how they could have made him do it. It only shows me how dreadful his temptations are, and how much he must go through when he is at home."
"I don't see how it can be helped," said the father with a sort of groan. "I can't be with them all the time; and if I were perhaps I shouldn't mend the matter. I suppose they must take their chance like others."
"Very well, if you are satisfied," she said stiffly.
"But I am not satisfied," he answered. "I should think I needn't assure you of that. But I feel helpless, and I don't know what to do. I don't want to part with the children just yet, you can understand that, no doubt. And yet I don't see what arrangement I can make to improve their condition at home. You must see it is perplexing."
"Will you let me tell you what to do," cried Missy, eagerly, twisting her fingers together as she spoke.