One of Mrs. Gay’s first principles of diplomacy was that an unpleasant fact treated as non-existent, was deprived in a measure of its power for evil.  By the application of this principle, she had extinguished her brother-in-law’s passion for Janet Merryweather, and she hoped that it would prove equally effective in blighting her son’s incipient fancy for Molly.  She looked upon Jonathan’s infatuation as a mere sinister shadow as yet, but she was shrewd enough to suspect that the shadow would be converted into substance at the first hint of her recognition that it was impending.  Indirect influence alone remained to her, and she surmised that her ultimate triumph would depend upon the perfection of her indirectness.  When it came to the game of strategy, Jonathan, being of an open nature, was no match for his mother.  He was inclined by temperament to accept things at their face value—­particularly women—­and not to worry about them unless they interfered with his appetite.  When he lost his desire for his meals, then he began, somewhat to his surprise, to consider them seriously.

“Of course I feel just as you do about it,” remarked Mrs. Gay, after a weighty silence.  “I’m fond of her and I see her good points—­but there’s something about her—­I suppose it’s the strain of Merryweather blood, or the fact of her being born in such unfortunate circumstances—­” Her manner grew severer.  “But—­whatever the cause, it shows itself in a kind of social defiance that would always keep her from being just—­oh, well, you know—–­”

“She’s bright enough, mother, she’s quick enough, and she’s pretty enough, isn’t she?”

“She would be, Jonathan, if her defiance did not come from pure wilfulness.  But she says and does the most unconventional things simply for the pleasure of shocking people.  It isn’t that she doesn’t know, it’s that she doesn’t care.”

“But she’ll get to care—­all women do, if you give them time.”  His tone implied that the whole sex was comprised in an elementary branch of psychology which he had mastered with the help of a few simple rules of analogy.

“Well, she may, dear, but I doubt it.  She is as absolutely without class instinct as an anarchist, I believe.  When she lived in the overseer’s cottage she never looked up and now that she has come out of it, she never looks down.  We’ve told her repeatedly that she mustn’t talk to strangers about that part of her life, but it isn’t the least bit of use.  Only a few days ago I heard her telling Judge Grayson that nobody appeared to do any ‘courting’ in New York.”

To her amazement he burst into a laugh.

“By Jove, I suppose she misses it,” he returned, “but what about that fellow she picked up in the North who hung around her last summer?”

“Oh, there have been plenty of them hanging about her.  Molly is the kind, you know, that will have lovers wherever you put her.”  There was a faint condescension in her voice, for she herself preferred adorers to lovers.