clear up what had become most of a mystery. It was to this she sprang pretty straight. "Is she my mother now?"
It was a point as to which an horrific glimpse of the responsibility of an opinion appeared to affect Mrs. Wix like a blow in the stomach. She had evidently never thought of it; but she could think and rebound. "If she is, he's equally your father."
Maisie, however, thought further. "Then my father and my mother—!"
But she had already faltered and Mrs. Wix had already glared back. "Ought to live together? Don't begin it again!" She turned away with a groan, to reach the washing-stand, and Maisie could by this time recognize with a certain ease that that way, verily, madness did lie. Mrs. Wix gave a great untidy splash, but the next instant had faced round. "She has taken a new line."
"She was nice to you," Maisie concurred.
"What she thinks so—'Go and dress the young lady.' But it 's something!" she panted. Then she thought out the rest. "If he won't have her, why she 'll have you. She'll be the one."
