I can't believe she ever
brought a child into the world."
"She probably doubts it herself," said Arkwright.
"Why does everybody cringe before her?"
"That's what everybody asks. She hasn't any huge wealth--or birth,
either, for that matter. It's just the custom. We defer to her
here precisely as we wear claw-hammer coats and low-neck dresses.
Nobody thinks of changing the custom."
Josh's lip curled. "Introduce me to her," he said commandingly.
Arkwright looked amused and alarmed. "Not tonight. All in good
time. She's the grandmother of a young woman I want you to meet.
She's Madam Bowker, and the girl's name is Severence."
"I want to meet that old woman," persisted Josh. Never before had
he seen a human being who gave him a sense of doubt as to the
superiority of his own will.
"Don't be in too big a hurry for Waterloo," jested Arkwright.
"It's coming toward you fast enough. That old lady will put you in
your place. After ten minutes of her, you'll feel like a schoolboy
who has 'got his' for sassing the teacher."
"I want to meet her," repeated Craig. And he watched her every
movement; watched the men and women bowing deferentially about her
chair; watched her truly royal dignity, as she was graciously
pleased to relax now and then.
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