"Catch her, indeed," said the angry Molly. "Didn't you say, mother, and didn't you hear father say that when Marcia came home, we three girls would have a fine time of freedom? It was always, always like that--`Wait till Marcia comes back.' Now she is back, and she--oh, mother, I couldn't believe it of her, I couldn't! I couldn't!" Molly sobbed and sobbed. At another moment Mrs Aldworth would have sent Molly from her room, but now she was so thoroughly angry with Marcia that she was inclined to sympathise with her. "I will tell you everything, mother. It really is too marvellous. It is almost past belief." "Sit down, Molly, and try to stop crying. It is so disfiguring to your face. You are wonderfully like what I used to be when I was a girl. That is, before my poor health gave way, and my poor dear nerves failed me. If you cry like that you will suffer in the end, as I am suffering. You will be a helpless, neglected, disliked invalid." "Oh, mother," said Molly, "I should not be at all surprised, and I only eighteen. You know Marcia is two years older, quite old, you know, out of her teens. When a girl gets out of her teens you expect her to be a little bit steady, don't you, mother?" "Of course, dear, of course. But stop crying. I can't hear you when you sob between each word." "It's enough to make anybody sob. We were so happy yesterday, we three. Ethel and I had everything planned--we were going to the Carters' dance to-night. You know Edward was to be there, and--and--Rob, who is so taken with Ethel, and our dresses were ready and everything." "But why cannot you go, my dear child? You must go." "It is impossible, mother, and it is all Marcia's doing. Our only fear was that perhaps Marcia would not come; but when she did enter the house we did feel ourselves safe. Nesta, poor pet, was going to play tennis with the Fortescues, but everything is knocked on the head now." "There's an unpleasant draught over my feet," said Mrs Aldworth. "Please, Molly, get me a light shawl to throw over them. No, not that one, the light one, the light one with the grey border. Just put it over my feet and tuck it in a little round the edge--not _too_ much. You are not very skilful. Now, Marcia--" "Oh, mother, you'll have to do without much of your precious Marcia. It was an awful mistake to let her go to Frankfort; it has ruined her. She has come back most terribly conceited and most, _most_ selfish." "I never did greatly admire her," said Mrs Aldworth. "As a child she was exceedingly obstinate." "Like a mule, I've no doubt," said Molly. "Oh, dear, dear! I know I've got a quick temper, but as to being mulish--I wouldn't make others unhappy, and she has made three girls so wretched." "Well, out with it, Molly." Mrs Aldworth was so much interested and so much amazed, that now that her feet had just the right degree of heat provided for them by the shawl with the grey border, she was inclined to listen with curiosity.