Now, George never lost a chance of recommending himself to Mary
by siding with her--but only after the battle. He came up to her
now with a mean, unpleasant look, intended to represent sympathy,
and, approaching his face to hers, said, confidentially:
"What made my mother speak to you like that, Mary?"
"You must ask herself," she answered.
"There you are, as usual, Mary!" he protested; "you will never
let a fellow take your part!"
"If you wanted to take my part, you should have done so when
there would have been some good in it."
"How could I, before Miss Mortimer, you know!"
"Then why do it now?"
"Well, you see--it's hard to bear hearing you ill used! What did
you say to Miss Mortimer that angered my mother?"
His father heard him, and, taking the cue, called out in the
rudest fashion:
"If you think, Mary, you're going to take liberties with
customers because you've got no one over you, the sooner you find
you're mistaken the better."
Mary made him no answer.
On her way to "the villa," Mrs. Turnbull, spurred by spite, had
got hold of the same idea as George, only that she invented where
he had but imagined it; and when her husband came home in the
evening fell out upon him for allowing Mary to be impertinent to
his customers, in whom for the first time she condescended to
show an interest:
"There she was, talking away to that Miss Mortimer as if she was
Beenie in the kitchen! County people won't stand being treated as
if one was just as good as another, I can tell you! She'll be the
ruin of the business, with her fine-lady-airs! Who's she, I
should like to know?"
"I shall speak to her," said the husband.
Pages:
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238