"You're great upon the manners to-day. Ye'll be making manners to Mrs Petty, as ye made them to me wance, to try if ye can inveigle her son into the clutches of your little-worth daughter?"
"What do you mean?" cried the other, angrily.
"Just what I say. But ye may save yourself the trouble. The girl's well able to fish on her own account. She has a beau of her own on the sly. What do ye think of that? I thought I'd make ye wince, for all your airs and pretensions! She had a young man waiting for her on the island. And never said a word to ye about it, I'm thinking? And then, to have the assurance to take Mr Wilkie away stravaiging with her, like a toy dog, before the eyes of all the company! Ye may well start and look affronted."
Mrs Naylor did start, but the assault was so outrageous that she could not but show fight.
"Your son was disappointed, I presume, that he could not have Miss Naylor's undivided attention; and so, when he comes home, he circulates idle tattles to her disadvantage. Is that conduct becoming a gentleman? I should say it was an act of the kind of person whom gentlemen call a cad."
Peter Wilkie, who had heard his mother's voice wax louder, looked round to where they sat. The angry looks of both ladies told him all. He hastened towards them, and if anything more had been needed to incriminate his poor old mother, her guilty and frightened looks at his approach would have sufficed. She pressed her hand to her side and rolled her eyes.
"Your palpitations, mother?" he said. "You have been exerting yourself in the heat. Come up-stairs to your room and lie down." He gave her his arm, and led her away looking like a bold child detected in a misdemeanour. She did not appear again in public till the cool of the evening, when she presented a penitent and crestfallen aspect, very different from her warlike demeanour on the tennis-ground.
Mrs Naylor's spirit sank almost as rapidly as her foe's. Now that the stir of battle was at an end, she could sit and make up her list of killed and wounded. Whether the enemy had taken flight or been withdrawn from the contest, this was a grievous blow which she had dealt at parting. She had been pluming herself on her skilful management of Margaret's affairs; and it now appeared that she had managed nothing, and the objectionable attachment was like to be too much for her. But the girl should not have her way, if she could help it. She would keep a sharper eye on her than ever. It was that pernicious young Blount's going away which had thrown her off her guard. But her eyes were opened now, and she would watch; and meanwhile she would rate Margaret soundly, and bring her to a sense of the turpitude of her behaviour.
She did so, and Margaret had to expiate in much weariness of spirit her happy little outbreak on Fessenden's Island.