"Oh, no! not at all,"--and Mrs. Gibson nodded a little at her
daughter, as much as to say, "If any one, that."
Lady Harriet began to look at the pretty Miss Kirkpatrick with fresh
interest; her brother had spoken in such a manner of this young
Mr. Hamley that every one connected with the phoenix was worthy of
observation. Then, as if the mention of Molly's name had brought her
afresh into her mind, Lady Harriet said,--"And where is Molly all
this time? I should like to see my little mentor. I hear she is very
much grown since those days."
"Oh! when she once gets gossiping with the Miss Brownings, she never
knows when to come home," said Mrs. Gibson.
"The Miss Brownings? Oh! I'm so glad you named them! I'm very fond of
them. Pecksy and Flapsy; I may call them so in Molly's absence. I'll
go and see them before I go home, and then perhaps I shall see my
dear little Molly too. Do you know, Clare, I've quite taken a fancy
to that girl!"
So Mrs. Gibson, after all her precautions, had to submit to Lady
Harriet's leaving her half-an-hour earlier than she otherwise would
have done in order to "make herself common" (as Mrs. Gibson expressed
it) by calling on the Miss Brownings.
But Molly had left before Lady Harriet arrived.
Molly went the long walk to the Holly Farm, to order the damsons,
out of a kind of penitence. She had felt conscious of anger at being
sent out of the house by such a palpable manoeuvre as that which
her stepmother had employed. Of course she did not meet Cynthia, so
she went alone along the pretty lanes, with grassy sides and high
hedge-banks not at all in the style of modern agriculture. At first
she made herself uncomfortable with questioning herself as to how
far it was right to leave unnoticed the small domestic failings--the
webs, the distortions of truth which had prevailed in their household
ever since her father's second marriage. She knew that very often
she longed to protest, but did not do it, from the desire of sparing
her father any discord; and she saw by his face that he, too, was
occasionally aware of certain things that gave him pain, as showing
that his wife's standard of conduct was not as high as he would have
liked. It was a wonder to Molly whether this silence was right or
wrong. With a girl's want of toleration, and want of experience to
teach her the force of circumstances, and of temptation, she had
often been on the point of telling her stepmother some forcible home
truths. But, possibly, her father's example of silence, and often
some piece of kindness on Mrs. Gibson's part (for after her way, and
when in a good temper, she was very kind to Molly), made her hold her
tongue.