“Do you intend to obey me, Edna?”
“No, I do not.”
Mrs. Sartwell went on with her sewing, a little straighter in the back, perhaps, but not otherwise visibly disturbed by the unjustifiable conduct of the girl. In each instance after Edna’s prompt replies there was silence for a few moments.
“In the earlier part of the day, Edna, you permitted yourself to speak to me and act towards me in a manner which I hoped you would regret when opportunity for reflection was given. I expected some expression of contrition from you. Have you reflected, Edna?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Sartwell threaded her needle with almost excessive deliberation.
“And what has been the result?”
“That I was pleased to think I had said nothing harsher than I did.”
The ticking of the tall clock on the landing echoed through the house. Edna listened intently for a quick, firm step on the gravel, but all outside was silent.
“Added to your—if I use the word insolence, it is because I can think of no other term with which to characterize the remarks you have addressed to me—added to your insolence is now disobedience. If I am overstating, the case, no one can be more pleased than I to be corrected, in the proper spirit.”