For it was the rule in the Andrews' household that the house linen should be gone through every six months with a view to repairs and renewals. It was a tedious business. Mrs. Andrews' nerves did not allow her to undertake it. It fell therefore, and had always fallen to the only daughter, who was not made for housewifery tasks, and detested the half-yearly linen day accordingly.
Her tone displeased her mother.
"There you are—grumbling again, Marion! What else have you to do, I should like to know, than your home duties?"
Marion made no reply. What was the use of replying? But her black eyes, as she helped herself wearily to some very cold tea, took note of her mother's attitude. It was only the week before that Dr. France had expressed himself rather pointedly to the effect that more exercise and some fresh interests in life "would be good for Mrs. Andrews."
Mrs. Andrews returned to the ladies' paper she was reading. The fashion plates for the week were unusually attractive. Marion observed her unseen.
Suddenly the daughter said:—
"I must ask you for that five pounds, mother. Bill promised it me. My underclothing is literally in rags. I've done my best, and it's past mending. And I must have another decent dress."
"There you are,—clamouring for money again"—said her mother, bouncing up on the sofa—"when you know how hard-pressed Bill is. He's got another instalment to pay for the motor the end of this week."
"Yes—the motor you made him get!"—said Marion, as though the words burst from her.
"And why shouldn't he, pray! The money's his—and mine. It was high time we got rid of that rattletrap. It jolted me to pieces."