“Why can’t you, Mother?” asked Pete.
“We’ll talk that over at home.”
“My dear boy,” said Mr. Lanley, kindly, “no one over thirty would have to ask why.”
“No parent likes to assist at the kidnapping of another parent’s child,” said Adelaide.
“Good Heavens! my mother has kidnapped so many children in her day!”
“From the wrong sort of home, I suppose,” said Lanley, in explanation, to no one, perhaps, so much as to himself.
“Am I to infer that she thinks mine the right sort? How delightful!” said Adelaide.
“Mrs. Wayne, is it because I’m richer than Pete that you won’t take me in?” asked Mathilde, visions of bestowing her wealth in charity flitting across her mind.
The other nodded. Wayne stared.
“Mother,” he said, “you don’t mean to say you are letting yourself be influenced by a taunt like that of Mrs. Farron’s, which she didn’t even believe herself?”