Part 6 (1/2)

Mrs. Milo was aghast. ”Dinner? _Here_?”

”As Ikey says, 'Ve vill eat mit a napkins.'”

Mrs. Milo could not find words for the counter-arguing of such a monstrous plan. ”But,--but, Sue,” she stammered; ”they--they're _natural_!”

A hearty laugh. ”Natural, dear mother? I hope they are.”

”You--know--what--I--mean.”

”Well, I can't tell them from other children with the naked eye. And they're just as dear and sweet, and just as human--if not a little more so.”

”You have your duty to the Rectory.”

”But what's this Rectory here for? And the Church, too, for that matter?”

”For wors.h.i.+p.”

”And how better can we wors.h.i.+p than----”

Seeing that she was losing out in the argument, Mrs. Milo now resorted to personalities. ”Darling,” she said gently, ”do you know that you're contradicting your mother?”

”I'm sorry.”

”The children are given food, clothes, and religious instruction.”

”But not love!--Oh, mother, I must say it! We herd them out there in that great building, just because their fathers and mothers didn't take out a license to be parents!”

Shocked, Mrs. Milo stepped back. ”My daughter!”

”Can we punish those poor little souls for that? And, oh, how they'd relish a taste of home life!”

Her position decidedly weakened--and that before watchful Hattie--Mrs.

Milo adopted new tactics. ”Of course, I have nothing to say,” she began.

”I am only here because you hold this secretarys.h.i.+p. You don't have to make me feel that I'm an intruder, Sue. I feel that sharply enough.”

There was a trace of tears in her voice. ”But even as an intruder, I have a certain responsibility toward the Rectory--all the greater, perhaps, because I'm a guest. Many a day I tire myself out attending to duties that are not mine. And I do----” She interrupted herself to point carpet-ward. ”Please pick up that needle. Dora must have overlooked it this morning. What is a needle doing in here? Thank you.”

Then as she spied that mocking look in Hattie's eyes once more, ”Well, I'm not going to see the place pulled to pieces!”

There was scorn written even in Hattie's profile. Sue came quickly to her mother's defense. ”I get mother's viewpoint absolutely,” she declared stoutly. ”We've lived here a long time. Naturally, you see----” Then, with a shake of the head, ”But this is Mr. Farvel's home.”

Mrs. Milo laughed--a low, musical, well-bred laugh. ”His home?” she repeated, raising delicate brows.

”And he can do as he chooses. If we oppose----”

”I shall oppose.” It was said cheerfully. ”So let him dismiss you.

I've never touched your father's life insurance, and I can get along nicely on his pension. And you're a first-cla.s.s secretary--rector after rector has said that. So you can easily find another position.”

”You find another job, Sue,” interposed Hattie, ”and my mother will invite your mother to Buffalo to live. I'll bequeath my room.” She laughed.

Mrs. Milo ignored her. ”But while I am forced to live here, I shall protect the Rectory. Furthermore, I shall tell Mr. Farvel so.” She turned toward the library.