"Not in your house, father," returned Julia. She had been preparing in thought for this moment for days. "Of course it wouldn't do to have strangers coming and going there."
"Nonsense, nonsense, my dear girl," brusquely, "put it out of your head at once. There is no need for you to do anything after this but bring up your child and keep your husband's shirt buttons in place."
"I won't neglect either," replied Julia quietly; "but Mr. Reeves says there is great need of practitioners in Bel-Air. You know where the reading-room is? There is a little room leading out of it that I could have."
"For an office, do you mean? Nonsense," exclaimed Mr. Evringham again. "Harry wouldn't think of allowing it."
Julia smiled. "Will you if he does?"
"What shall I say to her, Jewel?" The broker looked down into the serious face.
"I suppose mother ought to do it," replied the child. "Of course every one who knows how and has time wants to. You can see that, grandpa, because isn't your rheumatism better?"
"Yes. I like our resident physician very much; but we need her ourselves. I don't think I shall ever give my consent to such a thing."
"Oh, yes, you will, grandpa, if it's right." The flaxen head on his breast wagged wisely. "Some morning you'll come downstairs and say: 'Julia, I think you can go and get that office whenever you like.'"
Mrs. Evringham pressed her handkerchief to her lips. The couple in the armchair were so absorbed in one another that they did not observe her, and the broker's face showed such surprise.