“I surely never would have taken you to be Mrs. Winter’s mother,” the girl asserted with conviction, as they entered Nannie’s room.
“Grace!” Lucy called from the lower hall a few minutes later. “Where are you, Grace?”
“I’m busy, Mrs. Winter,” the girl called in answer.
“Well, leave whatever you are doing. I want you to begin luncheon. It’s late already.”
“I can’t come now, Mrs. Winter,” was Grace’s retort. “I’m helping Mrs. Merwent.”
“Wait a minute, Lucy. I’m explaining the work to Grace,” Nannie shouted impatiently.
Lucy went to the kitchen and began to prepare the meal herself.
“Is that a picture of you, Mrs. Merwent?” Grace was asking Nannie, pointing to a photograph on the dressing table.
“Yes, but it was taken a long time ago,” Nannie explained modestly.
“It’s a good likeness,” declared Grace.
“Oh, I look lots older than that now!” protested Nannie.
“Well, maybe you do look a teeny bit older, but I didn’t notice it,” Grace admitted, scrutinizing the picture again. “Ain’t Mrs. Winter your stepdaughter?” she pursued.
“No. She’s my own daughter,” confessed Nannie.
“My, but you must have got married young!” exclaimed the girl.
“Now, you can go down and help Mrs. Winter,” suggested Nannie pleasantly. “You understand how I want things. And don’t forget to do my room first always.”
“I’ll not forget,” Grace promised, “and whenever you want anything, you just call me, Mrs. Merwent.”
“I will, thank you, Grace.” Nannie smiled, and the servant descended to the kitchen.
Lucy was looking hot and tired when luncheon was served.
“Why is it that Jimmie always goes so early to kindergarten nowadays?” Mrs. Merwent asked her when they had seated themselves at the table.
“He goes over to Mrs. Hamilton’s after his breakfast,” replied Lucy, “and the wagon calls there for both children.”
“I should think you would let him go from here,” observed Nannie. “I don’t see the advantage of his going over to Mrs. Hamilton’s so early. And after he comes back you always send him or take him some place. A child ought not to be away from home so much. It’s not good for him.”
Lucy made no answer.
“One would think that you’d like to see more of your child, Lucy. I used to be miserable when you were at school. But it looks as though you send him away on purpose. Perhaps you want to keep him away from my evil influence?”
Lucy continued silent.
“Why don’t you say right out, Lucy, that you don’t want me to have anything to do with him?”
“That isn’t true, Mamma, that I don’t want you to see anything of him.”
“I suppose, then, you didn’t send him to kindergarten to get him away from me?”
“Well, I thought he bothered you a great deal, Mamma, and you and he are always quarreling.”
“Quarreling! I quarrel with a five year old child! You have a very dignified mother, I must say! No, that excuse won’t work. The real reason is that you want to estrange the child from me so you can have his affection all for yourself.”
“No, Mamma. That’s not so. But I do think it is bad for Dimmie to have you correcting him every time he breathes. Children should have a great deal of consideration.”
“And I have no consideration for him! I nag him every time he breathes! Lucy, of all the unjust, unkind things to say, and from my own daughter, too! After all I’ve gone through for you! If I’d only followed poor Mother’s advice and never come! Well, I’ll tell you this much, Lucy, I have some rights in the matter too, and I will not have my own grandson poisoned against me!”
“Well, I have some rights, too!” flared Lucy. “I will not have my child badgered to death by anybody!”
“Badgered! Well, I never! The child doesn’t belong to you alone, Lucy. He has a father, too, and we’ll see what John has to say about it!”
“It makes no difference what he says,” returned Lucy hotly. “You shall not ruin my boy, and neither shall his father!” Her eyes shone and her breast heaved.
“Why, Lucy! What are you getting into such a rage about?” Nannie temporized suddenly. “Anyone would think I was asking permission to murder him instead of—”
“That’s exactly what you are doing!” cried Lucy bitterly. “You would like to murder his soul. You want to interfere with every thought and impulse the child has!”
“Why, Lucy—” Nannie began again indignantly.
“Don’t ‘Lucy’ me!” interrupted her daughter vehemently, rising from her chair. “I tell you I won’t have my child tortured by you or anyone else. If it’s to be that or nothing we had better decide to part right now. So far as my own life goes, I say nothing, but my child—” She halted for breath, trembling with emotion.
“Lucy!” Nannie almost shrieked, rising also.
Lucy stared at her mother steadfastly for a moment, and did not speak. Nannie broke into hysterical sobbing. Lucy continued to regard her unmoved.
“Oh, Lucy, do you want to break my heart?” Nannie wailed.
“No,” said Lucy at last, the peculiar hard expression on her face relaxing slightly.
“Things used to be so different,” moaned Mrs. Merwent between sobs. “We were so congenial. And now that poor Mother’s dead, when I’m all alone and need affection so badly, and have forgiven all the past, to think that you could say such things to me!” And she wept afresh.
Lucy gazed at her with a look which mingled pity with contempt.
“Oh, Lucy, do you hate me?” Nannie’s voice was beseeching.
“No,” Lucy repeated impassively, hesitating a moment before she answered.
“Then, love me, Lucy! Don’t look at me that way!” Nannie threw her arms around her daughter’s neck.
For a moment Lucy submitted to the caress without responding. Then she put her arms around her mother.
“I can’t bear to have anything between us. We have always been so close together,” said Nannie, sniffing gently.
Lucy glanced across her mother’s shoulder and saw Grace standing in the doorway.
“You can clear the table,” Lucy ordered the girl sharply, at the same time loosening herself from Nannie’s embrace.
“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Grace cheerfully.
Nannie
