"Aileen, ask Mr. Herbert to come to my room at once when he has finished
telephoning, and when Mr. Bessemer arrives send him to me at once!" Then
the door closed and the woman was alone with her defeat, and the placid
enameled features melted into an angry snarl like an animal at bay. In a
moment more Herbert stormed in.
"It's all your fault, mother!" he began, with an oath. "If you hadn't
dragged Bessemer into this thing I'd have had her fixed. I had her just
about where I wanted her, and another day would have broken her in.
She's scared to death of insane asylums, and I told her long ago that it
would be dead easy to put a woman in one for life. If I had just hinted
at such a thing she'd have married me as meek as a lamb!"
"Now look here, Bertie," flared his mother excitedly, "you've got to
stop blaming me! Haven't I given in to you all your life, and now you
say it's all my fault the least little thing that happens! It was for
your sake that I stopped you; you know it was. You couldn't carry out
any such crazy scheme. Betty's almost of age, and if those trustees
should find out what you had threatened, you would be in jail for life,
and goodness knows what would become of me."
"Trustees! How would the trustees find it out?"
"Betty might tell them."
"Betty might _not_ tell them, not if she was _my wife_!" He bawled out
the words in a way that boded no blissful future to the one who should
have the misfortune to become his wife. "I think I'd have her better
trained than that. As for you, Mother, you're all off, as usual! What do
you think could possibly happen to _you_? You're always saying you do
everything for me, but when it comes right down to brass tacks I notice
you're pretty much of a selfish coward on your own account."
For a moment the baffled woman faced her angry uncontrolled son in
speechless rage, then gathered command of the situation once more, an
inscrutable expression on her hard-lined face. Her voice took on an
almost pitiful reproach as she spoke in a low, even tone that could
hardly fail to bring the instant attention of her spoiled son:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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