“Why not?” her father burst forth. “Because I don’t want you to. I don’t allow any young whippersnapper who wants, to take my daughter in a hired carriage. We have a carriage of our own, haven’t we? Isn’t it good enough? Send your young man a message to countermand his rig and you may go.”
Muriel stood there, swaying a bit, lowering on him.
“I’ll do no such thing. Make him think I’m a child who cant go out in any carriage but my Papa’s? The whole thing is too silly——”
“Very well. Then stay at home.”
Muriel broke into tears.
“I won’t,” she cried. “I’ll go. I never heard of such a thing. It’s stupid. What have you got all of a sudden against Alfred? Why should you ask me to insult him so? If he prefers to order his own cab....”
She stood there and wept and moved not at all, save for the stamping of her feet. Her father paced the room, far less contained.
“I have said what I meant.” Stopping short, he joined the issue. “And you will obey. So long as you are in my house, I am to be obeyed, do you hear? You ain’t married yet.”
He left the room. Muriel went to the dance in her father’s carriage. But Lois knew how clearly, in the light of the ensuing days, the victory was with her sister. Muriel kept aloof, frigid. She waged a perpetual guerilla on her father. Soon he began to bribe and to cajole for a return to favor. He bought her an armlet she had several months ago expressed the wish for. He had said it was too expensive. “Out of the question.” He took her to theater with a strained gusto of good will and to supper after. He spoke to her with a nervous smile that exclaimed his suppliance. And Muriel accepted all, gave nothing. She wore his armlet and in no way acknowledged the life and feeling of the harried man who waited for thanks as for a reprieve. On his return each evening to his house, she managed some little way to hold him frozen in discomfort. On the occasion of another dance, he said:
“Muriel, my dear—I just wanted to know—are you using the carriage to-night, or is your escort taking care of that? I just wanted to know, you see—because if so, I might use Henry myself. There’s a conference I——”