Unconsciously, he liked Charlie much better in esse than in posse, and found even his exuberant habit of repeating everything he said three or four times over merely an ebullition of warm-hearted earnestness.
"Now, now, now, now," said Charlie. "You want some suggestion about this kiddie of yours—your Lily. I understand perfectly. What are you to do with her—fourteen, isn't she? Fourteen—yes—fourteen. Now, our Dorothy isn't fourteen yet, and Janet and Sylvia, of course, are younger still. Sylvia is just ten, in fact. You know they've just gone to school at Bridgecrap?"
"No," said Philip, startled. "I had no idea of it. I always supposed that you and Ethel meant to educate them at home."
His terrible fear of any unpleasantness made him hesitate, and feel unable to say, as he had meant to say, that he disapproved of girls' schools altogether.
"Well, it was a sacrifice," Hardinge admitted with a sigh. "A sacrifice. But we felt that it was for the kiddies' own good. No brother, you see. They wanted to be taught how to take chaff, and ragging, and teasing—that's what they wanted—they wanted to get thoroughly well teased. Now your Lily, my dear fellow—very pretty kiddie-widdie, mind you, beautifully mannered, and I'm only saying this because I'm fond of her—your kiddie doesn't know how to take a joke. I noticed it this evening, when I was chaffing her a little about holding herself so badly. That's another thing she wants—drilling. Drilling, drilling!"
Charlie hit himself a resounding blow on the chest.
"She wants drilling!"
"She is tall for her age," said Philip, who considered personal remarks ill-bred, unless complimentary.
"So's my Dorothy," Hardinge inexorably returned. "Now, how tall is your kiddie? How tall exactly?"
"I really don't know, but she is certainly taller than most children of fourteen. In fact the governess, before she left, told me that Lily was outgrowing her strength."