“A girl she has adopted. They say she is going to leave this girl all her money, so she—the girl—will be a great heiress. And she is awfully pretty, and—and—just everything. I heard all about it this morning at school,” and Charlotte went on to give her father the details she had learnt through the French governess’s gossip. “She is to drive herself in every morning in her pony-carriage, except if it rains, and then she is to be sent and fetched in the brougham. Fancy her having a pony-carriage all of her own!”
Mr Waldron listened without interrupting her. He understood better than before his little daughter’s sudden curiosity about Silverthorns and Lady Mildred, and her incipient discontent. But all he said was:
“Ah, well, poor child! It is to be hoped she will be happy there.”
“Papa, can you doubt it?” exclaimed Charlotte.
“Papa isn’t at all sure if Lady Mildred will be very good to her, whether she makes her her heiress or not,” said Jerry bluntly.
“I don’t say that, Jerry,” said his father. “I don’t know Lady Mildred well enough to judge. I said, on the contrary, I had known of her doing kind things, which is true.”
“Papa only said Lady Mildred wasn’t a woman like mamma,” said Charlotte. “She might well not be that, and yet be very good and kind. Of course we are more lucky than any children in having mamma, but still if one has everything else—”
“One could do without a good mother? Nay, my Gipsy, I can’t—”
“Papa, papa, I don’t mean that—you know I don’t,” exclaimed Charlotte, almost in tears.
“No, I know you don’t really. But even putting mamma out of the question, I doubt if Lady Mildred—however, it is not our place to pass judgment.”