Page:Stella Dallas, a novel (IA stelladallasnove00prou).pdf/166

156 that she could work over Laurel, for when she had anything to conceal it was always easier to talk to the funny little perceiving creature, if she could keep her eyes down close on some sort of fine careful job, like cutting a bit of cuticle, or filing a nail to just the proper arch.

When the manicuring was well under way, Stella inquired, "How is your father?"

She always asked that question before Laurel had been back many hours.

Laurel always replied, "He's all right."

"Didn't seem different any way?"

"No."

"Didn't refer to me, I suppose?"

"No."

Laurel wished he would refer to her sometime, so she might tell her he had.

"Goodness," exclaimed Stella, "I should think he'd ask after my health once in a while!"

Laurel was silent.

Stella applied the blunt end of a steel file to the half-moon just appearing out of the pink flesh of Laurel's thumb.

"I should think he'd have some interest in my Welfare."

Still Laurel was silent.

"I never did anything to have him treat me as if I was dead."

"You hurt, mother."

Stella laid down the file. But it was somewhere inside where Stella was really hurting Laurel. Laurel always suffered when her mother talked like that about her father.