“Nurse,” interrupted Mrs. Markham’s voice, behind me, “I do not know what right you have to exclude my boy. Let him come in and bid good-night to his cousins. You will behave prettily, Rolf, will you not?”
One look at the surly face before me made me incredulous of any pretty behaviour on Rolf’s part. I knew Joyce was a nervous child, and easily frightened, and already the loud voices were upsetting Reggie. I could hear him crying, in spite of Hannah’s coaxing. I felt I must be firm. The nursery was my private domain. I was determined Rolf should not cross the threshold to-night.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Markham,” I returned quickly, “I cannot have the children disturbed at bedtime; it is against Mrs. Morton’s rules. Master Rolf may pay us a visit to-morrow, if he be good”—laying a stress on good—“but I cannot admit him to-night.”
She looked at me with haughty incredulity.
“I consider this very impertinent,” she muttered, half to herself. But Judson must have heard her.
“Come with me, Rolf darling. Never mind about your cousins. I daresay we shall find something nice downstairs,” and she held out her hand to him, but he pushed it away.
“Bring him to the drawing-room, Judson,” she said, coolly, not at all discomposed by his rudeness; but I could see my firmness had offended her. She would not soon forgive my excluding Rolf.
Rolf waited till she was out of sight, and then he recommenced his kicks. I exchanged a glance with Judson; her harassed face seemed to appeal to me for help.
“Master Rolf,” I said, indignantly, “you call yourself a gentleman, but you are acting like an ill-tempered baby, and I shall treat you like one,” and to his intense astonishment I lifted him off the ground, and, being pretty strong, managed to carry him, in spite of his kicks and pinches, down to the hall, followed by Judson. Probably he had never been so summarily dealt with, for his kicks diminished as we descended the stairs; and I left him on the hall mat, looking rather subdued and ashamed of himself.
I had gained my point, but I felt out of heart as I went back to the nursery. I had entered the house prejudiced against Mrs. Markham, and our first interview had ended badly. My conscience justified me in my refusal to admit Rolf; but all the same, I felt I had made Mrs. Markham my enemy. Her cold eyes had measured me superciliously from the first moment. Very probably she disapproved of my appearance. With women of this calibre—cold, critical, and domineering—poor gentlewomen would have a chance of being sent to the wall.