"You talk as if there had been some class war declared,
"she said, with obvious annoyance. "You know that Uncle
Stormont would like nothing better than to be as nice
to you as he is to us."
"Uncle Stormont!" Mrs. Dabney's repetition of the words
was surcharged with hostile sarcasm. "But his name
was Stormont as much as it was Joel, "broke in Alfred,
from his dark corner. "He has a perfect right to use
the one he likes best."
"Oh, I don't dispute his right," she replied,
once more in her passionless monotone. "Everybody can
call themselves whatever they please. It's no affair
of mine. You and your sister spell your father's
name in a way to suit yourselves: I never interfered,
did I? You have your own ideas and your own tastes.
They are quite beyond me--but they're all right for you.
I don't criticize them at all. What I say is that it
is a great mercy your uncle came along, with his pockets
full of money to enable you to make the most of them.
If I were religious I should call that providential."
"And that's what we DO call it," put in Julia, with vivacity.
"And why should you shut your doors against this Providence,
mamma? Just think of it! We don't insist upon your coming
to live at Ovington Square at all. Probably, as you say,
you would be happier by yourself--at least for the present.
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