What was she to do? How it was to call such distorted attempts at talk by the pleasant word conversation! What "familiar interchange of sentiment" could she hope to get up with Dorothy about milking cows? What did people say about cows, anyway? She wished she had some knowledge, even the slightest, of the domestic habits of these animals; but she was honestly afraid to venture in any direction, lest she should display an ignorance that would either be considered affected or sink her lower in the family estimation. Suppose she tried some other subject with Dorothy, would she be likely to choke again?
Mrs. Morgan tried to help. "Dorothy milked two cows when she was not yet twelve years old!"
Whether it was the words, or the tone, or the intention, Louise could not tell; but she immediately had a feeling that not to milk two cows before one was twelve years old argued a serious and irreparable blunder in one's bringing up. She was meek and quiet-toned in her reply:—
"I never had the opportunity of even seeing the country when I was a little girl, only as we went to the sea-side, and that is not exactly like the country, you know. All mamma's and papa's relatives happened to live in town."
"It must be a great trial to a woman to have to bring up her children in a city. Ten chances to one if they don't get spoiled."
Mrs. Morgan did not say it crossly, nor with any intention of personality, but again Louise felt it to be almost a certainty that she was thought not to belong to that fortunate "one chance" which was not spoiled.
Mother Morgan startled her out of her wandering by addressing her directly—
"I hope you will be able to make out a breakfast. I suppose our style of living is not what you have been used to."
What could Louise say? It certainly was not, and she certainly could not affirm that she liked it better.
Her husband turned a certain troubled look on her. "Can't you eat a little?" he asked in an undertone.