"Perhaps," said Mrs. Hayden, "it was because of his ability to borrow money that he felt he could afford to."
The eyes of the two ladies unconsciously followed Honora about the room.
"I never knew a better or a more honest woman than Mary Leffingwell, but I tremble for her. She is utterly incapable of managing that child. If Honora is a complicated mechanism now, what will she be at twenty? She has elements in her which poor Mary never dreamed of. I overheard her with Emily, and she talks like a grown-up person."
Mrs. Hayden's dimples deepened.
"Better than some grown-up women," she said. "She sat in my room while I dressed the other afternoon. Mrs. Leffingwell had sent her with a note about that French governess. And, by the way, she speaks French as though she had lived in Paris."
Little Mrs. Dwyer raised her hands in protest.
"It doesn't seem natural, somehow. It doesn't seem exactly—moral, my dear."
"Nonsense," said Mrs. Hayden. "Mrs. Leffingwell is only giving the child the advantages which her companions have—Emily has French, hasn't she?"
"But Emily can't speak it—that way," said Mrs. Dwyer. "I don't blame Mary Leffingwell. She thinks she is doing her duty, but it has always seemed to me that Honora was one of those children who would better have been brought up on bread and butter and jam."
"Honora would only have eaten the jam," said Mrs. Hayden. "But I love her."