"I think one really must, you know," our ethical young man objected, feeling that he must grasp his latent severity when Mrs. Upton's vague sweetness of regard was affecting him somewhat as her dog's caressing little tongue had done. "If a fondness is one we have a right to, we can justify it,—and it can only be justified by its utility, actual or potential, to the world we are a part of."
Mrs. Upton continued to smile as though she did not suspect him of wishing to be taken seriously. "One doesn't reason like that before one allows oneself to become fond."
"There are lots of things we must reason about to get rid of," Jack smiled back.
"That sounds very chilly and uncomfortable. Besides, something loving, pretty, responsive—something that one can make very happy—is useful to one."
"But only that," Imogen now intervened, coming to her friend's assistance with decision. "It serves only one's own pleasure;—that is its only use. And when I think, mama darling, of all the cold, hungry, unhappy children in this great town to-night,—of all the suffering children, such as those that Jack and I have been trying to help,—I can't but feel that your petted little dog there robs some one."
Mrs. Upton, looking down at her dog, now asleep in a profound content, continued to stroke him in silence.
Jack felt that Imogen's tone was perhaps a little too rigorous for the occasion. "Not that we want you to turn Tison out into the streets," he said jocosely.
"No; you mustn't ask that of me," Valerie answered, her tone less light than before. "It seems to me that there is a place for dear unreasonable things in the world. All that Tison is made for is to be petted. A child is a different problem."
"And a problem that it needs all our time, all our strength, all our love and faith to deal with," Imogen returned, with gentle sadness. "You are robbing some one, mama dear."
"Apparently we are a naughty couple, you and I, Tison," Mrs. Upton said, "but I am too old and you too eternally young to mend."