“I don’t think you’d have time for both, honey. And there are those poor children who haven’t any dolls to play with, and you ought to feel sorry for them.”
And Aubrey weakened, eventually. Dancing school didn’t open for ten days, though, and she wanted to keep the dolls until she could start her lessons. There was argument, but to no avail.
“That’s all right, Edie,” Richard told her. “Ten days is better than not at all, and—well, if she doesn’t give them up voluntarily, it’ll start a rumpus and Sam’ll find out what we’re up to. You haven’t mentioned anything to him at all, have you?”
“No. But maybe it would make him feel better to know they were—”
“I wouldn’t. We don’t know just what it is about them that fascinates or repels him. Wait till it happens, and then tell him. Aubrey has already given them away. Or he might raise some objection or want to keep them. If I get them out of the place first, he can’t.”
“You’re right, Dick. And Aubrey won’t tell him, because I told her the dancing lessons are going to be a surprise for her father, and she can’t tell him what’s going to happen to the dolls without telling the other side of the deal.”
“Swell, Edith.”
It might have been better if Sam had known. Or maybe everything would have happened just the same, if he had.
Poor Sam. He had a bad moment the very next evening. One of Aubrey’s friends from school was there, and they were playing with the doll house. Sam watching them, trying to look less interested than he was. Edith was knitting and Richard, who had just come in, was reading the paper.
Only Sam was listening to the children and heard the suggestion.