It is Thérèse. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. ’ He flushed. He reached for her, and she struck savagely. ” She growled. "Not that I know of," replied the carpenter, who had in some degree recovered his confidence. She trembled; but she did not know why. What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman. You bring me this grandfather, whom you know well I do not in the least wish to see, for I have told you so.
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