"I am doing nothing of the kind, Bob, and I know perfectly well what I am talking about. I heard Aunt Jo tell her Cousin Jenny Bruce the whole story. Major Arkwright and papa were in the same regiment, and they had an awful row together over cards, and the major called papa a black something or other—black-foot was it? No, not black-foot, but black-leg—I remember now I thought it such a funny word—black-leg!"
Before the end of this unfortunate speech, Armstrong, with innate delicacy, rises to his feet and begins addressing his wife in a loud voice; but it is of no use—he can not drown his sister-in-law's shrill triumphant tone, and so he hurries from the room, and leaves the family to fight it out among themselves.
Robert's handsome face is scarlet; he turns to his eldest sister fiercely.
"Addie, what in the world do you mean by letting that child loose as you do? If you have not sufficient authority to keep her in the school-room, where she ought to be, you ought at least to be able to muzzle her in society; she is getting perfectly intolerable!"
"What can I do?" answers Mrs. Armstrong, with quivering voice. "Nobody minds what I say, nobody pays the least attention to my wishes. I am a cipher in my own house."
"That's because you don't assert yourself properly," strikes in Pauline trenchantly. "You are all fire and fury for the moment, Addie, and then you subside and let things go. There is nothing solid in your character, and there is a want of dignity and repose in your manner that you really ought to supply now that you are a married woman. Don't you agree with me, Robert?"
"Perfectly, my child. What you want is backbone, Addie—backbone."
"It seems to me that I want a good many things to content you all," she says bitterly. "I sometimes wonder, if I had gone to Birmingham as a nursery-governess, instead of doing as I did, whether I shouldn't have given you all, myself included, more satisfaction in the long run, and—"
"Now, Addie, now why will you fly off at a tangent like that, and drag in matter that has nothing to do with the question? You know you did everything for the best; and I'm sure your marriage so far has turned out most satisfactory, and—"
"Suppose you leave my marriage and its result out of the question, Robert!" she interrupts quickly. "It is a subject I would rather not discuss with you, if you do not mind."