She
knew perfectly well that she was to keep to the road or the field
tracks, but the sylvan depths seemed to call her and she could not
resist the call.
Once when Norah had been troublesome in this respect, Mavis was so
angry that she threatened her with corporal punishment.
"Look here, my lass," said Mavis, unconsciously founding herself on
the manner of her husband when administering rebuke, "if you can't
obey what I tell you, I shall ask Mr. Dale to chastise you--yes, my
lass, to give you a lesson you won't forget in a hurry." Norah hung
her head and pouted. Then she looked up and spoke firmly.
"He wouldn't do it. He's too kind."
"Oh, yes, he would. Don't you make a mistake about that."
"He _wouldn't_." Norah's eyes flashed; she stamped her foot, and
turned on Mavis quite fiercely. "He's so good that he wouldn't hurt a
fly, much less beat a girl. You've no right to say it--behind his
back--what you know isn't true."
"Be off to your work this instant," said Mavis, stamping also, "or
I'll whip you myself." And she pursued Norah to the kitchen. "You dare
to sauce me like that again as long as you live!"
Before the evening was over, Norah, completely contrite, begged to be
forgiven for her rudeness; and Mavis was only too ready both to
forgive and to forget.
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