"Louise," she said in an imperative undertone, "tell John to turn back and take me home. I _must_ go back this minute. If you think anything of me," she added hastily, interposing against remonstrance, "do as I ask." "Now, Linda, listen to reason. If you've made up your mind to go back and eat humble-pie--excuse the truth--at least wait till after dinner and Sam shall drive you back. It would be absurd to turn back now." "Louise--you don't understand my feeling. I was wrong to come. Robert was to come home early this evening and bring an old friend just from England with him to stay a few days. Think how mortifying to find me gone away!" "It would look badly. Still--serve him right!" "No, I was cross myself this morning--probably. I didn't mean to tell you of our quarrel--our _half_ quarrel. But never mind talking about it, only, please take me back. Or else let me walk? I can walk; it's not far." "Linda Fitzhugh! Well, then--John, Mrs. Meeks has forgotten an important engagement and we must take her straight home again. Can you turn the carriage here?" "Reckon I kin, m'm," said John sulkily, and the horses were turned about. Mrs. Gourlay glanced at her watch and said resignedly: "It will be half-past one by the time I am back, and the children will be savage, for I promised them I wouldn't stay long this morning. But you always have your own way with me, Linda. I wish you were half as spunky with somebody else." "Don't, dearest," Linda entreated, the color rising in her cheeks. "I will say it. If you keep on giving in this way to a man's temper, you'll end by not daring to say your soul's your own." "Robert is imperious, perhaps," the young wife answered slowly. "But that is between him and me. If I can stand it, my friends needn't worry." "My dear child, you know I don't mean to be meddlesome. I might have recollected the old adage about a husband and wife being a pair of scissors, and whatever comes between the blades gets cut. But there is a principle involved here." "Yes," assented Linda, "there is a principle involved." "I suppose you mean your principles and mine are not the same," said the elder woman, with a little heat. "Oh, yours are all right for you. But I must conform myself to a different rule. I can't explain it all, dear, only, right or wrong, I shall continue to give in--as you term it--to Robert. If he is high-tempered, there's all the more reason why I shouldn't be. I know what he expects of me--what he has always expected of me----" "Expects you to be an angel!" broke in her friend, "while he is--whatever he chooses." "Well," answered Linda, with a brilliant smile, "I'll be as near an angel as I can. You don't understand. There are compensations. Even if there is a little bitter drop now and then, he makes me very happy. And happiness is worth an effort." "Well, well," sighed her friend, and they both fell into silence.