“Oh, Robert, oh, Dora, my children, what have you done?”
“Why, mamma!” exclaimed Dora, in astonishment, “I thought you’d like it. You know I always promised to be Robbie’s wife, and now I am, what makes you feel so? I’m sure I’m as glad as can be.”
“Stop!” replied her mother, sternly. “You foolish child, you know not what you have done.”
Poor innocent Dora had never heard her mother speak so before, and with her heart almost broken she rushed sobbing into the house, and crouched half frightened in a corner.
Robert, who had listened to all that passed, with surprise and almost anger, grew pale himself at Mrs. Dupont’s strange manner, and began to think it had not been such a happy day after all. That he had done a serious thing was certain, though for his part he could not yet see the harm.
“Robert,” at length said Mrs. Dupont, “drive home as quickly as you can, and bring your father to me. I must talk this matter over with him immediately.”
Robert became seriously alarmed. He thought if he had done anything that demanded a solemn conference with his father, it must be serious indeed.
“Auntie,” he said, looking wistfully into her face and addressing her by the old name, “I am sorry you feel so badly about this, but do not blame Dora, for I alone am to blame for all that has happened.”
“Go!” she said wearily, pointing toward his buggy.
“But please, auntie——”