“Don’t you believe what she says, Miss Temperley,” cried Fred; “mother never could teach Hadria the most rudimentary notions of accuracy.”
“Her failure with my brothers, was in the department of manners,” Hadria observed.
“Then she does not know what you talk about?” persisted Henriette.
“You ask her,” prompted Fred, with undisguised glee.
“She never attends our meetings,” said Algitha.
“Well, well, I cannot understand it!” cried Miss Temperley. “However, you don’t quite know what you are talking about, and one mustn’t blame you.”
“No, don’t,” urged Fred; “we are a sensitive family.”
“Shut up!” cried Ernest with a warning frown.
“Oh, you are a coarse-grained exception; I speak of the family average,” Fred answered with serenity.
Henriette felt that nothing more could be done with this strange audience. Her business was really with the President of the Society. The girl was bent on ruining her life with these wild notions. Miss Temperley decided that it would be better to talk to Hadria quietly in her own room, away from the influence of these eccentric brothers and that extraordinary sister. After all, it was Algitha who had originated the shocking view, not Hadria, who had merely agreed, doubtless out of a desire to support her sister.