"Well, John, I suppose you are right, but then what if I manage to keep the child, and save just as much as usual at the end of the week? then it would be my own little charity, you know."
"But how can you manage that, Jane?"
"Well, now, promise to let me have my own way—just promise that before we go another step—and I will manage it; you shall see."
Chester shook his head, and was about to speak, but his wife rose just then half leaning on his chair, her arm somehow got around his neck, and bending her red lips close to his cheek she raised the only hand that was disengaged and folded the fingers over his mouth.
"Not a word, John—not a word; only promise to let me have my own way—I will have it—you know that well enough!"
"Well," said Chester, laughing, and trying to speak through the fingers that held his lips, "well, go on—I promise—only don't quite stop my breath!"
"Very well," said Jane Chester, removing her hand, and clasping it with the other that fell over his shoulder; "now you shall hear."
"With our little family, you know, I have a great deal of spare time."
"I don't know any such thing, Jane—you are always at work."
"Oh, yes, stitching your shirt-bosoms in plaits so fine that nobody can see them; ruffling Isabel's pantalets, and knitting lace to trim morning-gowns and frocks—but what does that amount to?"