“I told you that Miss Harper, that abominable girl I sent off to-day, was a pet of his.”
“Ah, yes; I remember. Well, there’s one thing very certain, madam: he’ll find no pet or plaything in me!” There was the look of an ogre in the woman’s skinny face. “I met him on the stairs an hour ago: one glance told me his character. I read him like a book.”
“How did you read him?” asked Mrs. Dainty.
“He’s an old cot-betty! A thing I despise!” said Mrs. Jeckyl, with contempt.
“He’s kind-hearted.” Mrs. Dainty uttered a word of apology for Uncle John. It came from her lips almost unbidden.
“Kind-hearted! Any fool may be kind-hearted,” said Mrs. Jeckyl, “and yet be very annoying in his folly. I never had much fancy for what are called kind-hearted people by way of apology for a thousand annoying vices and defects of character.”
“Uncle John has few defects of character, and no vices.” Mrs. Dainty could not help this just defence of her excellent relative.
“By your own showing, madam,” said Mrs. Jeckyl, affecting a pleasant tone, “he is very much inclined to be meddlesome in your affairs: that I call a vice. If you think the appellation too severe, you can call the peculiarity by another name. I can’t tolerate such men!”
“I don’t ask your toleration of him. Only avoid, if possible, giving offence. For my mother’s sake, if not for his own, I must bear with him and treat him with all considerate kindness.”
“I’ll manage him,” said Mrs. Jeckyl. “So don’t give yourself any trouble about his interference with my duties or privileges in the house.”