The rest of the table did not want to witness her downfall, nor seem, by respectful silence, to approve the idiosyncrasies of Martha and Mary. Why should anyone eat the beastly pudding who did not want to? The fees were paid just the same.
Strained low-toned comments on the progress of the new tennis court began to be heard; but Mary was wiser than Martha, as of old. Far wiser. Long and humble study of the New Testament had inclined her heart to keep its Law. She ruled, in fact, by love.
"I think we'll leave it to Margery's own Brave Self," she told her sister. "She understands that it is for her own good, mentally and physically, that we desire her to eat it. Do not distress yourself, my child. Just think the matter over carefully and then decide which of your two natures is to Win the Fray. If, to-day, you decide to leave it..."
She smiled watery encouragement at Margery, by this time incapable of eating anything. Lunch finished a little hurriedly.
Said Martha that night in the private sitting-room, where she and Mary were wont to dissect characters and debate the handling of them:
"A little giddy."
"But warm-hearted," defended Mary.
"Shallow," said Martha.
"It is a question of guidance, Sister," insisted Mary.
Martha remained unconverted.