“Do you mean Innocent?”
“I mean her, if that’s her name,” said the boy, colouring slightly. “Don’t she stay with the rest of us? Ain’t you good to her? Where has she gone?”
“We are as good as we know how to be,” said Mrs. Eastwood, glad to plunge into a grievance, and with a new listener. “We don’t know what to make of her, Jenny. She does not care for Nelly and me. We have tried to coax her, and we have tried to scold her; but she will stay by herself. She comes down when the bell rings, and she speaks when she is spoken to: that is all; and I am at my wit’s end what to do.”
“But that is everything a woman ought to be,” said Molyneux. “Isn’t there a proverb about being seen and not heard, &c.? What a difference from some people! When I came in to-day, the first thing I heard was some one singing up-stairs—singing so that I felt inclined to dance. I suppose it was not this Innocent?”
“It must be your fault,” said Jenny seriously, taking no notice of this interpellation.
“My fault, Jenny!” cried Mrs. Eastwood, getting red; and then she paused, and subdued her tones. “Do you know, dear, I often think it must be. But what can I do?” she said humbly. “I try talking to her, and that fails; and then I try taking no notice. Yes, Jenny, I believe you are right. If I could love her heartily, right out, as I love Nelly——”
“That’s unreasonable,” said Jenny. “You can’t do that, because, you see, we love Nelly by instinct, not for anything in her. She’s not bad, for a girl—but if she were as disagreeable as an old cat, still we should have instinct to fall back upon. You have no instinct in respect to the other girl.”
“What an odd boy you are!” said Mrs. Eastwood, half affronted, half laughing; “and yet I believe there’s something in it. But I do blame myself. I want to be kind, very kind, to her; whereas, you know, if I had not been kind to her, but only had loved her at once, I should have done better, I am sure. As for girls being seen and not heard, I don’t think it applies to their families, Mr. Molyneux. It is all very well out in the world——”
“Out in the world one would rather they did say something now and then,” said Molyneux. “It may be good, but it is dull. We are in a new cycle of opinion, and don’t think as our grandfathers did. At the domestic hearth it might be very nice to have some one who would only speak when she was spoken to. There would be no quarrels then, Nelly; no settings up of independent judgment; no saying ‘Hold your tongue, sir——’”
“That ought to be said, however, sometimes,” said Nelly, making a little moue.