"Papa," she said, "is it true that you've sacked Essy at three days'
notice?"
"I have dismissed Essy," said the Vicar, "for a sufficient reason."
"There's no reason to turn her out before Christmas."
"There is," said the Vicar, "a very grave reason. We needn't go into
it."
He knew that his daughter knew his reason. But he ignored her
knowledge as he ignored all things that were unpleasant to him.
"We must go into it," said Gwenda. "It's a sin to turn her out at
three days' notice."
"I know what I'm doing, Gwenda, and why I'm doing it."
"So do I. We all do. None of us want her to go--yet. You could easily
have kept her another two months. She'd have given notice herself."
"I am not going to discuss it with you."
The Vicar put his head under the roll top of his desk and pretended to
be looking for papers. Gwenda seated herself familiarly on the arm of
the chair he had left.
"You'll have to, I'm afraid," she said. "Please take your head out of
the desk, Papa. There's no use behaving like an ostrich. I can see you
all the time. The trouble is, you know, that you won't _think_. And
you _must_ think. How's Essy going to do without those two months'
wages she might have had? She'll want every shilling she can lay her
hands on for the baby."
"She should have thought of that before."
The Vicar was answering himself. He did not acknowledge his daughter's
right to discuss Essy.
"She'll think of it presently," said Gwenda in her unblushing calm.
Pages:
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137