Jane meanwhile improved the occasion to ask the
doctor's mother about the hospital they were building
near Barnegat, and whether she and one or two of
the other ladies at Warehold would not be useful as
visitors, and, perhaps, in case of emergency, as
nurses.
While the talk was in progress Lucy sat smoothing
Rex's silky ears, listening to every word her hostess
spoke, watching her gestures and the expressions that
crossed her face, and settling in her mind for all
time, after the manner of young girls, what sort of
woman the doctor's mother might be; any opinions
she might have had two years before being now outlawed
by this advanced young woman in her present
mature judgment.
In that comprehensive glance, with the profound
wisdom of her seventeen summers to help her, she
had come to the conclusion that Mrs. Cavendish was
a high-strung, nervous, fussy little woman of fifty,
with an outward show of good-will and an inward
intention to rip everybody up the back who opposed
her; proud of her home, of her blood, and of her son,
and determined, if she could manage it, to break off
his attachment for Jane, no matter at what cost.
This last Lucy caught from a peculiar look in the
little old woman's eyes and a slightly scornful curve
of the lower lip as she listened to Jane's talk about
the hospital, all of which was lost on "plain Jane
Cobden," as the doctor's mother invariably called
her sister behind her back.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93