VII

Elizabeth was fluttering anxiously about the table in her small

dining-room when her husband entered in his usual breezy fashion and

laid a bunch of fragrant carnations before her.

"A finishing touch for your table, Betty," he said; and added with

lover-like enthusiasm, "My! how pretty you're looking to-night!"

"I shouldn't think I'd look pretty after the day I've put in," she told

him as she arranged the flowers in water. "Sam, Mrs. Van Duser was here

to luncheon."

"No?"

"She came to ask me if I had read 'Anthropological Investigations on one

thousand children, white and colored,' and I hadn't even looked at it."

"So you flatly flunked the exam; poor Betty!"

"Not exactly, Sam; I--told her I didn't quite--understand the subject."

"Ah, Machiavellian Betty! Did she tumble?"

"Oh, Sam! what a way to speak of Mrs. Van Duser. I was the one to

tumble, as you call it. She graciously picked me up. Of course Doris was

naughty, and Celia spilled cocoa on the table-cloth and passed

everything on the wrong side. Then after Mrs. Van Duser went, Evelyn

came.--She's up-stairs now, dressing for dinner. And--after that--I

don't know what you'll think of me, Sam; but I--was nervous or something

I think, and I--whipped Richard."

"You--what?"

"After all I've said about Marian Stanford, too! I just hate myself for

doing it. But I had dressed that child twice all clean, and when I came

down to see about dinner and found him playing in the aquarium _again_,

Sam, dripping water all over the floor, and with his clothes soaked to

the skin, I just seemed to lose all control of myself. I snatched the

poor darling up and--and--spanked him as hard as I could. The strange

part of it is that I--seemed to enjoy doing it."

Her doleful air of abject contrition was too much for Sam. He roared

with irrepressible laughter. "Forgive me, Betty," he entreated; "but

really, you know----"

"I understand now exactly why people whip their children," went on

Elizabeth, descending into abysmal depths of humility and grovelling

there with visible satisfaction. "I gave way to uncontrollable rage just

because I knew I must take the trouble to dress the poor little darling

again, and I couldn't think for the minute what flannels to put on him.

So I revenged myself, in just a common, spiteful, vulgar way. No, Sam;

you needn't try to make light of what I did. Nothing can excuse it!"

At that instant the misused infant, dragging a train of iron cars behind

him, hove into view.

"Chu-chu-chu!" he droned. "Det out the way! Here tomes the 'spress

train!" His cherubic countenance was serene and rosy; he beamed

impartially upon his parents as he scuffed across the floor.

"Well," said his father, endeavouring (unsuccessfully) to view the

matter in a serious light, "I fail to observe any signs of violent abuse

or tokens of abject fear about the young person; I guess you didn't----"

"Hush, Sam! I hope he's forgotten it--the darling! Do you love mother,

baby?"

"I'm a dreat big engine-man!" vociferated the infant, submitting

cheerfully to his mother's kisses, "an' I love 'oo more'n a sousand

million! Chu-chu! Toot-toot! Ding-dong!"

"How about the other young Brewsters?" inquired their father, with a

twinkle of mock solicitude in his blue eyes. "Have they been pursuing

the undeviating paths of rectitude, or have you--er--been moved to----"

"Sam, if you make fun of me about--what I did to Richard, I----" her

voice broke, and she hid her eyes on his shoulder. "I thought," she

said, "that it was my duty to tell you."

"I'm not making fun of you, little woman. Perish the thought!" and he

kissed her convincingly. "I don't know what I should--or shouldn't

do--if I had to cope with the young miscreants single-handed all day.

Where is Doris, by the way?"

She told him about the broken bay-rum bottle, and described the scene at

the luncheon table. "I was so ashamed," she concluded; "but what could I

do?"

"Let me laugh again, Betty!" he begged. "That's too much, you know.

Fancy our small Doris having the--er--audacity to stand up and audibly

hint that Mrs. J. Mortimer Van Duser's room would be more acceptable

than her company. I wish I'd been there to see and hear."

"Mrs. Van Duser said that it was a most interesting example of

ideation--whatever that is," said his Elizabeth rather proudly. "She's

writing a paper for the Ontological Club, and she's going to put all

three of the children in."

"As what--Concrete examples of the genus _enfant terrible_?" he inquired

cautiously.

Elizabeth was surveying her table with satisfied eyes. She did not

appear to have heard his question.

"It may be hard work to take care of all that silver and glass we had

for wedding presents, Sam," she said thoughtfully; "but on occasions it

is useful."

"Yes; if the foreigner in the kitchen didn't too often turn our dancing

into mourning by smashing it."

"I'm not going to let Celia wash one of these dishes," she told him

firmly.

"Who is going to wash them?" he asked resignedly.

"I am--after Mr. Hickey's gone and Evelyn's in bed."

"'That means me,'" he quoted irreverently. "I'm a thoroughly

house-broken husband, and you can depend upon me, Betty, every shot."

She flashed him a grateful smile. "Of course I know that, Sam," was all

she said; but her eyes were eloquent of love and happy trust. "What do

you think, Sam," she added irrelevantly; "Evelyn has known Mr. Hickey a

long time already."

"So much the better for Hickey!"

"Yes; that's what I thought. You see, Sam, if--if anything should

happen, it wouldn't be all our doing; and so in a way, Sam, I actually

felt relieved when Evelyn said that she had met Mr. Hickey before. It is

really an awful responsibility."

"What? to ask Hickey to dinner? He didn't seem to mind it."

"Don't be flippant, Sam," she said with dignity. "You know perfectly

well what I mean. If Mr. Hickey _should_ fall in love with Evelyn--and I

will say that she never looked more attractive than she does now--and

if she should----"

He interrupted her with a hasty kiss. "I've got to go up and dress," he

reminded her. "Don't you worry, Betty; if he should, and she should,

then they both would; and all you and I would be required to do would be

to buy them a clock that wouldn't go, or a dozen _pâté de foies gras_

implements--only let it be something useful. By the way, I see you've

set the table for the children. Do you think that is--er--exactly the

part of wisdom?"

"No, Sam; I do not. But I had to make it up to Richard someway, so I

promised to let him have dinner with us, and Evelyn quite insisted upon

the others. She thinks Carroll simply perfect, and she says Doris is the

most fascinating child she ever saw."

"Well," he acquiesced, "they're the biggest and best half of the

Brewster family, when you come to think of it, and Hickey always wants

to see them when he comes."

Half an hour later Elizabeth was putting the finishing touches to her

toilet, while the children, immaculate and shining, hovered admiringly

about the dressing-table.

"Now remember, Carroll, you mustn't get to quarrelling with Doris about

anything."

"I won't, mother; I promise."

"We're going to have ice-cream for dessert, and----"

"Oh-e-e!" in a rapturous chorus from all the children.

"I don't want you to make that noise when Celia brings it in to the

table; that's why I'm telling you beforehand."

Richard was pirouetting heavily on his little stubbed shoes. "Oh-e-e!"

he repeated, "ice-cweam!"

"Now, do you think you can remember?" asked Elizabeth, clasping a string

of gold beads about her pretty throat, and turning to meet the three

pairs of upturned eyes. "I want Aunty Evelyn to think you've improved a

great deal since the last time she was here. You weren't very good that

time."

Carroll's clear gaze met his mother's reprovingly. "Do you want Aunty

Evelyn to think we've improved, if we haven't?" he asked. "Because we're

really getting badder most every day."

"You're badder, you mean," said Doris, with a superior and pitying

smile; "I'm as good 's I can be. Mrs. Van Duser said I was a very

inter-est-in' 'zample of a child. So there!"

Carroll shook his head. "I'm not going to quarrel with you, Doris,

'cause I promised mother I wouldn't," he said with dignity; "but we are

badder--'specially you; you didn't mind mother three times to-day."

"I am not badder."

"I said I wouldn't quarrel, Doris; but you are--very much badder."

"Hush, children!" exclaimed Elizabeth, hurriedly intervening between the

militant pair. "Come right down stairs, and don't talk to each other at

all unless you can be pleasant and polite."

Miss Evelyn Tripp presently appeared in a wonderful toilet, all lace and

twinkling jets. She exclaimed over Carroll's marvellous gain in inches,

and Doris' brilliant colour, and kissed and cooed over Richard.

"They're certainly the dearest children in the world," she said. "I've

been simply wild to see them all these months, and you, too, Betty dear!

I've so much to tell you!"

She twined her arm caressingly about Doris, and smiled brilliantly down

at the little girl, who gazed with round appreciative eyes at the

visitor's gown and at the jewels which sparkled on her small white

hands.

"Both of my front teeth are all wiggly," whispered the child, feeling

that something out of the ordinary was demanded of her in a social way.

"I can wiggle them with my tongue."

"Can you, darling? How remarkable! Never mind; you'll soon have some

nice new ones that won't wiggle."

Doris giggled rapturously. "We're going to have ice-cream for dinner,"

was her next confidence. "But I'm not going to act s'prised when Celia

brings it in. We've all promised mother we won't, even if it's pink. I

hope it'll be pink; don't you?"

"Doris," warned her mother, "you're talking too much."

"Oh, do let the dear little soul say anything she likes to me, Betty!"

protested Miss Tripp. "If you knew how I enjoyed it!"

Doris nestled closer to the visitor, eyeing her mother with the

naughtily demure expression of a kitten stealing cream. "I was going to

tell you something funny," she said, "but I can't think what it was. I

guess I'll remember when we're eating dinner."

"The artless prattle of a child is so refreshing, you know," continued

Miss Tripp, "after all the empty conventionalities of society. I simply

love to hear the little darlings--especially yours, dear Betty. You are

bringing them up so beautifully!"