At the top he relieved his parental
feelings by a good deal of smacking and scolding. For Bobby was a
notorious "limb," the terror of his mother and the inn generally. He
roared vociferously under the smacking. But when Helena arrived on the
scene, he stopped at once, and put out a slim red tongue at her. Helena
laughed, congratulated the father on his skill, and returned to her seat.
"That's a parable of me!" she thought, as she sat with her elbows on her
knees, staring at the bank opposite.
"I very nearly slipped in!--like Bobby--but not quite. I'm sound--though
bruised. No desperate harm done." She drew a long breath--laughing to
herself--though her eyes were rather wet. "Well, now, then--what am I
going to do? I'm not going into a convent. I don't think I'm even going
to college. I'm going to take my guardian's advice. 'Marry--my dear
child--and bring up children.' 'Marry?'--Very well!"--she sprang to her
feet--"I shall marry!--that's settled. As to the children--that remains
to be seen!"
And with her hands behind her, she paced the little path, in a strange
excitement and exaltation.
Pages:
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344