'Dolores,' she said, 'you forget that Miss Hacket walked to church.'

Dolores turned on the step, her face looking as black as thunder, and
Miss Hacket protested that she was not tired, and could not leave her
girls.

'Never mind the girls, I will look after them; I meant to walk. Don't
stand on the step. Come down,' she added sharply, but not in time,
for the horses gave a jerk, and, with a scream from Constance, down
tumbled Dolores, or would have tumbled, but that she was caught between
her aunt and Miss Hacket, who with one voice admonished her never to do
that again, for there was nothing more dangerous. Indeed, there was
more anger in Lady Merrifield's tone than her niece had yet heard, and
as there was no making out that there was the least injury to the girl,
she was forced to walk home, in spite of all Miss Hacket's
protestations and refusals, which had nearly ended in her exposing
herself to the same peril as Dolores, only that Lady Merrifield fairly
pushed her in and shut the door on her. Nothing would have compensated
to Dolores but that her Constance should have jumped out to accompany
her and bewail her aunt's cruelty, but devotion did not reach to such
an extent. Her aunt, however, said in a tone that might be either
apology or reproof--

'My dear, I could not let poor Miss Hacket walk after all she has done
and with all she has to do today.'

Dolores vouchsafed no answer, but Aunt Jane said--

'All which applies doubly to you, Lily.'