"All right, dear Ruth, and if I do not like its growth, I will pull it up by the roots, I assure you."
Ruth went with her to the door and watched her walk leisurely down the broad steps to the street. The light kindled in her eyes and on her face as she did so. She already felt the magnetism of the great city, and with a laughing farewell walked rapidly toward Dora's house.
Her card brought an instant response, and she heard Dora's welcome before the door was opened. And her first greeting was an enthusiastic compliment, "How beautiful you have grown, Ethel!" she cried. "Ah, that is the European finish. You have gained it, my dear; you really are very much improved."
"And you also, Dora?"
The words were really a question, but Dora accepted them as an assertion, and was satisfied.
"I suppose I am," she answered, "though I'm sure I can't tell how it should be so, unless worry of all kinds is good for good looks. I've had enough of that for a lifetime."
"Now, Dora."
"Oh, it's the solid truth--partly your fault too."
"I never interfered----"
"Of course you didn't, but you ought to have interfered. When you called on me in London you might have seen that I was not happy; and I wanted to come to Rawdon Court, and you would not invite me. I called your behavior then 'very mean,' and I have not altered my opinion of it."
"There were good reasons, Dora, why I could not ask you."
"Good reasons are usually selfish ones, Ethel, and Fred Mostyn told me what they were.
"He likely told you untruths, Dora, for he knew nothing about my reasons. I saw very little of him."
"I know. You treated him as badly as you treated me, and all for some wild West creature--a regular cowboy, Fred said, but then a Rawdon!"
"Mr. Mostyn has misrepresented Mr. Tyrrel Rawdon--that is all about it. I shall not explain 'how' or 'why.' Did you enjoy yourself at Stanhope Castle?"
"Enjoy myself! Are you making fun of me? Ethel, dear, it was the most awful experience. You never can imagine such a life, and such women. They were dressed for a walk at six o'clock; they had breakfast at half-past seven. They went to the village and inspected cottages, and gave lessons in housekeeping or dressmaking or some other drudgery till noon. They walked back to the Castle for lunch. They attended to their own improvement from half-past one until four, had lessons in drawing and chemistry, and, I believe, electricity. They had another walk, and then indulged themselves with a cup of tea. They dressed and received visitors, and read science or theology between whiles. There was always some noted preacher or scholar at the dinner table. The conversation was about acids and explosives, or the planets or bishops, or else on the never, never-ending subject of elevating the workingman and building schools for his children. Basil, of course, enjoyed it. He thought he was giving me a magnificent object lesson. He was never done praising the ladies Mary Elinor and Adelaide Stanhope. I'm sure I wish he had married one or all of them--and I told him so."