Henry's a regular old woman."
Mary shook her head. "You can't afford to offend the Henrys. And you
know what he is so hasty. He'd call in some one else on the spot, and
you'd never get back. If only you hadn't stayed out so long, dear,
looking at the moon!"
"Good God! Mary, is one never to have a moment to oneself? Never a
particle of pleasure or relaxation?"
"Why, Richard!" expostulated his wife, and even felt a trifle ashamed of
his petulance. "What would you call to-night, I wonder? Wasn't the whole
evening one of pleasure and relaxation?"
And Mahony, struggling into shirt and trousers, had to admit that he
would be hard put to it to give it another name.
Chapter IV
Hush, dolly! Mustn't cry, and make a noise. Uncle Richard's cross.
Trotty sat on a hassock and rocked a china babe, with all the
appurtenant mother-fuss she had picked up from the tending of her tiny
stepsister. The present Trotty was a demure little maid of some seven
summers, who gave the impression of having been rather rudely elongated.
Her flaxen hair was stiffly imprisoned behind a round black comb; and
her big blue eyes alone remained to her from a lovely infancy. ("Poor
Emma's eyes," said Mary.)
Imitative as a monkey she went on--with a child's perfect knowledge
that it is all make-believe, yet with an entire credence in the power of
make-believe: "Naughty child--WILL you be quiet? There! You've frown
your counterpane off now.
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