“Well, I think if we had these exhibitions often the children would grow to be just too pert for anything. I have my views about play-acting, and as my niece is a pupil here, I'm just a little anxious about how this school is run. Have you any small sisters here?” she asked.
His eyes were dancing.
“I've no small sisters,” he said, “and as my little daughter is but nine months old, I've not yet sent her to school.”
“Your daughter? Well, I declare! Why, I thought you were an overgrown boy!” she said, bluntly.
“Alas! That's what my wife frequently calls me,” he said, and from his manner one might have thought that he deeply regretted the fact.
“If your wife is here, young man, I should think she'd see you talking to that pretty girl beside you,” said the little woman, sharply.
“Oh, she rather likes it,” he said, with a soft laugh, “you see that pretty girl is my wife.” Aunt Matilda stared.
“Wouldn't you like to meet her?” he asked; “this is such a very informal gathering that I might venture to present her, if only I knew your name.”
“I'm Arabella Corryville's aunt,” she said, without realizing that that was not telling her name.
“Vera,” he said, “allow me to present you to Arabella's aunt; madam, this is my wife!”