I hardly think it a suitable companionship for Alice."
"I am sure I don't care to know her," chimed in Alice. "I thought
her quite bold and forward in her manner."
"Decidedly so! She seemed to hang on to your father's hand as if she
would never let go," added Mabel, in her most acid tone. "I must
say, I should have been horrified to see you act in such a familiar
manner toward any stranger." A quick colour shot into Preston
Cheney's cheek and a spark into his eye.
"The girl was perfectly modest in her deportment to me," he said.
"She is a lady through and through, however humble her birth may be.
But I ought to have known better than to ask my wife and daughter to
like anyone whom I chanced to admire. I learned long ago how futile
such an idea was."
"Oh, well, I don't see why you need get so angry over a perfect
stranger whom you never laid eyes on until to-day," pouted Alice. "I
am sure she's nothing to any of us that we need quarrel over her."
"A man never gets so old that he is not likely to make a fool of
himself over a pretty face," supplemented Mabel, "and there is no
fool like an old fool."
The uncomfortable drive home came to an end at this juncture, and
Preston Cheney retired to his own room, with the disagreeable words
of his wife and daughter ringing in his ears, and the beautiful face
of the young organist floating before his eyes.
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