“No; but I hate the noise. I don’t know; I just made it up because it’s so likely.”
“She always speaks so affectionately of you.”
“She’s a coward; that’s the only difference. She hates me just as much.”
“Well, you’ve never been nice to her, Adelaide.”
“I should think not.”
“She’s not as bad as you think,” said Mr. Lanley, who believed in old-fashioned loyalty.
“I can’t bear her,” said Adelaide.
“Why not?” As far as his feelings went, this seemed a perfectly safe question; but it wasn’t.
“Because she tries so hard to make you ridiculous. Oh, not intentionally; but she talks of you as if you were a Don Juan of twenty-five. You ought to be flattered, Papa dear, at having jealous scenes made about you when you are—what is it?—sixty-five.”
“Four,” said Mr. Lanley.