"
"Dick is good company," said Beatrice. "And it was his own fault. I
asked him to go with us, when Dick and I left the cattle, and he
wouldn't. Dick will tell you the same. And after that I did not see him
until just before we--I came home, Really, mama, I can't have a
leading-string on Sir Redmond. If he refuses to come with me, I can
hardly insist."
"Well, you must have done something. You said something, or did
something, to make him very angry. He has not been himself all day. What
did you say?"
"Dear me, mama, I am not responsible for all Sir Redmond's ill-humor."
"I did not ask you that, Beatrice."
Beatrice thumped her pillow again. "I don't remember anything very
dreadful, mama. I--I think he has indigestion."
"Be-atrice! I do wish you would try to conquer that habit of flippancy.
It is not ladylike. And I warn you, Sir Redmond is not the man to dangle
after you forever. He will lose patience, and go back to England without
you--and serve you right! I am only talking for your own good, Beatrice.
I am not at all sure that you want him to leave you alone."
Beatrice was not at all sure, either. She lay still, and wished her
mother would stop talking for her good. Talking for her good had meant,
as far back as Beatrice could remember, saying disagreeable things in a
disagreeable manner.
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