This interview gave an ultimate touch to the change which the experiences of the last few months had wrought in Nancy. She examined her chances of grief open-eyed, prepared to meet them with the simplicity of courage which came natural to her steady heart.
The first step was to supplant Kuei-lien and the t'ai-t'ai in their dominance over her father. She moved so swiftly that the two conspirators were astonished to find the girl installed in her father's room. Herrick, with pathetic docility, childlike in its readiness to be pleased by trifles, surrendered himself wholly to the mastery of a strong will.
Kuei-lien protested that Nancy would do injury to her father's delicate health by so uncalled-for an intrusion.
"My father is ill," replied the daughter. "It would be wrong for me to waste my time playing when he needs my help. It is time I took some share in my duties instead of leaving all the hardship to you."
"But you have had no experience; you don't know how to take care of him."
"I can learn. He will be glad of a change and so will you."
Kuei-lien knew Nancy's obstinacy too well to waste more time in futile dispute. She hastened to tell the t'ai-t'ai the alarming turn Nancy's action had caused.
"We can't separate them," she exclaimed. "The miserable girl has had her bedding moved into a room next to the Great Man's and says she will live there till he is well. What can we do?"
"We've got to get her married," said the t'ai-t'ai; "there will be no peace till she's gone. Suppose he dies because of her folly; we shall be left like beggars."
"But we can't get her married. She won't obey us. She will obey her father, but she won't listen to us."