And one girl told another, and one girl told her
mother, and the thing was out.
"Yes, it is all very sad," Mrs. Herriton kept saying.
"My daughter-in-law made a very unhappy marriage, as I dare
say you know. I suppose that the child will be educated in
Italy. Possibly his grandmother may be doing something, but
I have not heard of it. I do not expect that she will have
him over. She disapproves of the father. It is altogether
a painful business for her."
She was careful only to scold Irma for disobedience--that
eighth deadly sin, so convenient to parents and guardians.
Harriet would have plunged into needless explanations and
abuse. The child was ashamed, and talked about the baby
less. The end of the school year was at hand, and she hoped
to get another prize. But she also had put her hand to the wheel.
It was several days before they saw Miss Abbott. Mrs.
Herriton had not come across her much since the kiss of
reconciliation, nor Philip since the journey to London. She
had, indeed, been rather a disappointment to him. Her
creditable display of originality had never been repeated:
he feared she was slipping back. Now she came about the
Cottage Hospital--her life was devoted to dull acts of
charity--and though she got money out of him and out of his
mother, she still sat tight in her chair, looking graver and
more wooden than ever.
"I dare say you have heard," said Mrs. Herriton, well
knowing what the matter was.
"Yes, I have.
Pages:
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102