But surely if he had telephoned, surely, surely, Mother
would have told her about it--Mother would have known that there were a few
things where she really hadn't any right to interfere.
Mother had never liked Oliver, though she'd pretended. Never.
Nancy remembers back and with fatally clear vision. It is fortunate that
Mrs. Ellicott cannot turn over with Nancy that little shelf-full of
memories--all the small places where she was not quite truthful with
Nancy, where she was not quite fair, where she "kept things from her"--Mrs.
Ellicott has always been the kind of woman who believes in "keeping things
from" people as long as possible and then "breaking them gently." Almost
any sort of things.
It is still more fortunate that Mrs. Ellicott cannot see Nancy's eyes as
she reviews all the tiny deceptions, all the petty affairs about which she
was never told or trusted--and all for her own best interests, my dear,
Mrs. Ellicott would most believingly assure her--but when parents stand so
much in Loco Dei to nearly all children--and when the children have long
ago found out that their God is not only a jealous God but one that must
be wheedled and propitiated like an early Jehovah because that is the only
thing to be done with Gods you can't trust--
Nancy doesn't _want_ to believe.
Pages:
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280