But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. There was no one to be seen in the great hall. Mrs. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. It looked as if it had taken its world for granted and prospered on that assumption—a world in which children were trained to obey their elders and the wills of women over-ruled as a matter of course. And to think that there they are making history! There they are putting together the plans of a new world.
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