Part 22 (2/2)
”We didn't have to make up much, Daddy, did we?” mendaciously.
Miss Emily came to the rescue. ”He seems very nice.”
”Splendid fellow. But I am not sure that I want him sending flowers to my daughter. I don't want anyone sending flowers to her.”
Miss Emily took him up sharply. ”That's your selfishness. Life has always been a garden where you have wandered at will. And now you want to shut the gate of that garden against your daughter.”
”Well, there are flowers that I shouldn't care to have her pluck.”
”Don't you know her well enough to understand that she'll pluck only the little lovely blooms?”
His eyes rested on Jean's absorbed face. ”Yes, thank G.o.d. And thank you, too, for saying it, Emily.”
After dinner they sat in the library. Doctor McKenzie on one side of the fire with his cigar, Emily on the other side with her knitting.
Jean between them in a low chair, a knot of Derry's violets fragrant against the gray of her gown, her fingers idle.
”Why aren't you knitting?” the Doctor asked.
”I don't have to set a good example to Emily.”
”And you do to Hilda?” He threw back his head and laughed.
”You needn't laugh. Isn't it comfy with Emily?”
”It is.” He glanced at the slender black figure. He was still feeling the fineness of the thing she had said about Jean. ”But when she is here I am jealous.”
”Oh, Daddy.”
”And I am never jealous of Hilda. If you had Emily all the time you'd love her better than you do me.”
He chuckled at their hot eyes. ”If you are teasing,” Jean told him, ”I'll forgive you. But Emily won't, will you, Emily?”
”No.” Emily's voice was gay, and he liked the color in her cheeks.
”He doesn't deserve to be forgiven. Some day he is going to be devoured by a green-eyed monster, like a bad little boy in a Sunday School story.”
Her needles clicked, and her eyes sparkled. There was no doubt that there was a sprightliness about Emily that was stimulating.
”But one's only daughter, Emily. Isn't jealousy pardonable?”
”Not in you.”
”Why not?”
”Well,” with obvious reluctance, ”you're too big for it.”
”Oh,” he was more pleased than he was willing to admit, ”did you hear that, Jean?”
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