"Fred likes no one but Dora Stanhope."
"Eh! What! Is that nonsense going on yet?"
Then Ethel described her last two interviews with Dora. She did this with scrupulous fidelity, making no suggestions that might prejudice the case. For she really wanted her grandmother's decision in order to frame her own conduct by it. Madam was not, however, in a hurry to give it.
"What do you think?" she asked Ethel.
"I have known Dora for many years; she has always told me everything."
"But nothing about Fred?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing to tell, perhaps?"
"Perhaps."
"Where does her excellent husband come in?"
"She says he is very kind to her in his way."
"And his way is to drag her over the world to see the cathedrals thereof, and to vary that pleasure with inspecting schools and reformatories and listening to great preachers. Upon my word, I feel sorry for the child! And I know all about such excellent people as the Stanhopes. I used to go to what they call 'a pleasant evening' with them. We sat around a big room lit with wax candles, and held improving conversation, or some one sang one or two of Mrs. Hemans' songs, like 'Passing Away' or 'He Never Smiled Again.' Perhaps there was a comic recitation, at which no one laughed, and finally we had wine and hot water--they called it 'port negus'--and tongue sandwiches and caraway cakes. My dear Ethel, I yawn now when I think of those dreary evenings. What must Dora have felt, right out of the maelstrom of New York's operas and theaters and dancing parties?"
"Still, Dora ought to try to feel some interest in the church affairs. She says she does not care a hairpin for them, and Basil feels so hurt."
"I dare say he does, poor fellow! He thinks St. Jude's Kindergarten and sewing circles and missionary societies are the only joys in the world. Right enough for Basil, but how about Dora?"
"They are his profession; she ought to feel an interest in them."
"Come now, look at the question sensibly. Did Dora's father bring his 'deals' and stock-jobbery home, and expect Dora and her mother to feel an interest in them? Do doctors tell their wives about their patients, and expect them to pay sympathizing visits? Does your father expect Ruth and yourself to listen to his cases and arguments, and visit his poor clients or make underclothing for them? Do men, in general, consider it a wife's place to interfere in their profession or business?"