The Mis-Rule of Three by Florence Warden

Marie sprang towards her father and poured out a torrent of broken words. Angry, anxious, excited, it was difficult to make out what sentiment was uppermost in her, and her father seemed also, at first, undecided as to the attitude he should adopt towards the two gentlemen.

"They accuse me, my father -- they accuse me! " cried the girl, panting. "They say -- Monsieur Bayre says -- I do not take care of the child. He who comes here but once in six months, what should he know? He says this is not the child we are paid to take care of. My father, answer him, answer them both!"