“And such a thing as consideration for me never enters her head. But this deliberate disregarding of my wishes is going to be the last. She and I are going to have an understanding once for all.” John’s expression was relentless.
“Now, John, dear,” remonstrated Nannie gently, “you must be patient. I know it’s hard, but you know how abnormal Lucy is now. And I’m afraid it’s growing on her.”
Lucy was coming down the stairs.
When she reached the dining room John and Mrs. Merwent, who had heard her approach, both rose as though by a previous agreement.
“Lucy,” John began in a tone that was gravely didactic, “notwithstanding the fact that your mother has pled with you not to go near those people again, to say nothing of your husband’s wishes in the matter, you have been to Miss Storms’ to see them and taken my child with you.”
Lucy looked from John to her mother. Nannie’s eyelids were red but her eyes were hard and glittered brightly. Lucy’s own face was pale and she bit her lip to control its involuntary inclination to tremble. John returned her startled glance with a gaze that might have greeted a stranger.
“He is my child, too, John, and his grandfather wished to see him before he left,” she said in a suppressed voice.
“Didn’t I tell you not to go again?” he asked accusingly, taking no notice of her statement. His voice was unsteady and his face flushed.
“You have no right to order me to do or not to do anything, John.”
John’s flush grew deeper and duller. Dimmie had slid from his chair and run out to play.
“I won’t have it!” John broke out violently, seizing a chair and setting it down on the floor with a bump.
Lucy regarded him steadfastly.
“I think it’s time you thought very seriously about what you are doing, Lucy,” advised Nannie loftily.
Lucy continued to face them and spoke with self control, although the twitching of her lip was apparent. Her eyes seemed to grow wider and deeper without altering their expression.
“I think it is time you two also thought very seriously about what you are doing,” she began slowly. “It seems never to have occurred to either of you that there is anybody else to consider except my mother. But I will tell you,” here Lucy raised her voice a little, “that I will not endure this kind of treatment from you two, for always. I have struggled and hoped that you, John, at least, might come to your senses and see what all this is leading to, but—”
“I won’t hear you vilify your mother any longer,” John interrupted harshly. “I’m not a baby being led around by the nose, and she’s not an adventuress plotting to ruin you. If there is anything about your present situation you don’t like, you can blame yourself for it. You have sneered at her and belittled her ever since she came, and the minute you get a chance you go and tag around after your father and the woman he deserted Nannie for, and you and Miss Storms try to wean my child away from his own father and grandmother to please them. You have taken your stand with them and against us, and if you think we are going to sit by tamely and submit to it you are mightily mistaken.”
John’s manner had grown more and more violent during this speech. He lifted the chair he held and struck it on the floor to emphasize each phrase, and his face was distorted with passion.
“You must admit, Lucy, that this quarrel is of your own making and not our fault,” put in Nannie again.
Lucy ignored her.
“John, please try to think what you are saying. Oh, John, please think of me. Think of Dimmie. Don’t make things impossible for us all.” Lucy was pleading and her voice shook. She clasped and unclasped her hands nervously.
“Impossible!” repeated John bitterly. “Things are already impossible. And you’ve made them impossible.” He was almost shouting. “I tell you I won’t have you ignoring my wishes and making a fool of me in my own house.”
Lucy’s eyes kindled.
“And I tell you I won’t have you shouting at me, John Winter. And I won’t have you treating me as though I were a servant to be dictated to. If you have no decent pride, I have. Dimmie is not far away, and Katy is in the kitchen.”
“Lucy, Lucy—” interrupted Nannie.
Lucy turned on her with vicious suddenness.
“And you will please attend to your own business, Mother. If it includes running John’s affairs, that is no reason for its including my life. When I want your advice and interference in my relations with my husband I’ll ask you for them.”
Mrs. Merwent stopped short with open mouth.
“Why, Lucy—” she gasped.
“Don’t speak to me,” commanded Lucy, her eyes glowing.
Nannie crept closer to John and took hold of his arm.
“It seems to me you ought to remember the servant yourself, Lucy,” she protested feebly.
“You shall not treat your mother this way!” John had raised his voice until it could be heard all over the house.
“No?” Lucy inquired in a curious tone.
“No, you shall not,” he repeated.
“No?” she asked again in the same peculiar manner.
“Lucy, Lucy, what is the matter with you?” cried Nannie hastily. “You act so strangely!”
“Do I?” asked Lucy, still in a voice so unlike her usual self.
“Lucy! You frighten me! Don’t look like that!” insisted Nannie nervously. “How can you look as if you hated me? Is all your love for me gone out of your heart?”
Lucy began to laugh hysterically. As John and her mother appeared more and more astounded, she laughed louder and louder.
“Lucy! Stop that!” ordered John sharply. “I don’t know you. I never saw you act like this. What’s the matter with you?” He shook her arm as he spoke.
She only laughed the more wildly.
“Lucy!” John’s voice was uncertain now. “Lucy! Stop, I say. What on earth has gotten into you? Why, you act as if you
