'I was as sorry as sorry could be,' said the girl. 'Indeed I'd have done anything if I could have got another bowl. But—did you know how Naylor spoke to me, Cousin Ellen?' and Ruth hesitated a little. 'It was just awful.'
'I know how she is,' said Mossop, 'but it's no use thinking about it. I was just glad of one thing, and that was that you told at once.'
Ruth hardly seemed to feel this cheering.
'I could almost have wished I hadn't told,' she said. 'I don't know what I'll do if ever I have to tell anything again.'
'Don't say that, my dear,' said Mossop, eagerly. 'After all, Naylor isn't my lady, and it's her temper. You'll find it much worse in the end if you hid anything, believe me. Have you written to your mother about it?'
'No,' said Ruth, 'I thought I'd wait,' and she went on to explain her reasons. Mossop approved of them.
'Yes,' she said, 'wait a bit. Writing makes things seem so much worse. Telling is different. Maybe I'll be going over to Wharton some day, and I could tell your mother. You'll feel all right again soon, and it's to be hoped you'll have no more bad luck. I can't say but what I was very put out myself about that basin—real "Severs" it was. I suppose, to go to the roots of things, it was my fault for having left it about. I said so to my lady.'
'Oh dear, Cousin Ellen, I'm sure no one could ever think you to blame,' said Ruth. 'Indeed, indeed, I will try to be careful.'
Her tone was rather melancholy still. Mossop looked at her with a little smile.