“And I shall keep it. I always do,” said Barker very quietly, but with that same singular expression of face that had puzzled Stacy. But Mrs. Barker, who, perhaps, knew her husband better, said in an altered voice:—
“But HOW can you, dear?”
“If I'm short a thousand or two I'll ask your father.”
Mrs. Barker was silent. “Father's so very much harried now, George. Why don't you simply throw the whole thing up?”
“But I've given my word to your cousin Henry.”
“Yes, but only your WORD. There was no written agreement. And you couldn't even hold him to it.”
Barker opened his frank eyes in astonishment. Her own cousin, too! And they were Stacy's very words!
“Besides,” added Mrs. Barker audaciously, “he could get rid of it elsewhere. He had another offer, but he thought yours the best. So don't be silly.”
By this time they had reached their rooms. Barker, apparently dismissing the subject from his mind with characteristic buoyancy, turned into the bedroom and walked smilingly towards a small crib which stood in the corner. “Why, he's gone!” he said in some dismay.
“Well,” said Mrs. Barker a little impatiently, “you didn't expect me to take him into the public parlor, where I was seeing visitors, did you? I sent him out with the nurse into the lower hall to play with the other children.”