DOI article:
Moore, Arthur: Second toughts
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27812#0127
By Arthur Moore 123
" No," said Dorothy, swiftly interpreting her mother's glance.
" You mustn't send me away, my pretty little mother. I'll promise
not to catch cold. I haven't been able to talk to you all day."
Mrs. Vandeleur half closed the window, and then seated herself
with an expression of resignation on the arm of her daughter's
chair. In the dim light shed by the two candles on the dressing-
table, one would have thought them two sisters, plotting innocently
the discomhture of man. The occasion did not prove so stimu-
lating to conversation as might have been expected. For a few
minutes both were silent ; Dorothy began to hum an air from the
Savoy opera, rather recklessly ; she kicked off one of her slippers,
and it fell on the polished oak floor with a little clatter.
"Little donkey ! " murmured her mother sweetly. "So much
for your talking. I'm going to bed at once." Then she added,
carelessly, " Did you see Jack to-day ? "
The humming paused abruptly ; then it went on for a second,
and paused again.
" Oh yes, the inevitable Mr. Wilgress was on the river, as
usual. He nearly ran us down in that idiotic skiff of his."
Mrs. Vandeleur raised her eyebrows, gazing at her unconscious
daughter reflectively.
" You didn't see him alone, then ? " she inquired presently.
" Who ? Mr. Wilgress ? Ye-es, I think so. When we got
back to the boathouse he insisted on taking me out again in the
canoe, to show me the correct Indian stroke. Much he knows
about it! That's why I was so late for dinner. Oh, please
don't talk about Mr. Wilgress."
"Mr. Wilgress again?" murmured Mrs. Vandeleur. "I
thought it always used to be 'Jack.' "
" Only, only by accident," said the girl weakly. " And when
he wasn't there."
"Well,
" No," said Dorothy, swiftly interpreting her mother's glance.
" You mustn't send me away, my pretty little mother. I'll promise
not to catch cold. I haven't been able to talk to you all day."
Mrs. Vandeleur half closed the window, and then seated herself
with an expression of resignation on the arm of her daughter's
chair. In the dim light shed by the two candles on the dressing-
table, one would have thought them two sisters, plotting innocently
the discomhture of man. The occasion did not prove so stimu-
lating to conversation as might have been expected. For a few
minutes both were silent ; Dorothy began to hum an air from the
Savoy opera, rather recklessly ; she kicked off one of her slippers,
and it fell on the polished oak floor with a little clatter.
"Little donkey ! " murmured her mother sweetly. "So much
for your talking. I'm going to bed at once." Then she added,
carelessly, " Did you see Jack to-day ? "
The humming paused abruptly ; then it went on for a second,
and paused again.
" Oh yes, the inevitable Mr. Wilgress was on the river, as
usual. He nearly ran us down in that idiotic skiff of his."
Mrs. Vandeleur raised her eyebrows, gazing at her unconscious
daughter reflectively.
" You didn't see him alone, then ? " she inquired presently.
" Who ? Mr. Wilgress ? Ye-es, I think so. When we got
back to the boathouse he insisted on taking me out again in the
canoe, to show me the correct Indian stroke. Much he knows
about it! That's why I was so late for dinner. Oh, please
don't talk about Mr. Wilgress."
"Mr. Wilgress again?" murmured Mrs. Vandeleur. "I
thought it always used to be 'Jack.' "
" Only, only by accident," said the girl weakly. " And when
he wasn't there."
"Well,