“You mean you’d break off from what your folks thought?”
“If I felt it to be right, yes.”
Ellen drew a quick, impatient breath.
“You mean to say you’d set yourself up as knowin’ mor’n your people before you did?”
“I believe each generation grows wiser, or ought to—wiser and kinder.”
“Kindness has nothin’ to do with it.”
“Yes, it has,” persisted Lucy softly. “Unless we become more kind, how is the world ever to become better?” 77
“Pish!” ejaculated Ellen. “Now see here. You ain’t comin’ into my house to preach to me. I’m older’n you, an’ I know without bein’ told what I want to do. So long’s you stay under this roof you’ll behave like a Webster—that’s all I’ve got to say. If you ain’t a-goin’ to be a Webster an’ prefer to disgrace your kin, the sooner you get out the better.”
“Very well. I can go.”
There was no bravado in the assertion. Had there been, Ellen would not have felt so much alarmed. It was the fearless sincerity of the remark that frightened her. She had not intended to force a crisis. She had calculated that her bullying tone would cow rather than antagonize her niece. The last result on which she had reckoned was defiance. Instantly her crafty mind recognized that she must conciliate unless she would lose this valuable helper whose toil could be secured without expense.