“Take the desk, take the whole of it, and to-morrow I shall leave the house! I shall go back to my bachelor quarters, where I once lived in peace.”
The child regarded him seriously, from out her great, brown eyes.
“Don’t go away, papa,” she said at last, “you may have a little of your desk, if you won’t take too much. I didn’t mean to be cross at you,” she added, with a pathetic quiver of her lip.
“Well, well!” exclaimed the father hastily, “there, there!” and he laid his hand softly on her curly little head, “I guess we’ll get on somehow; if I can have a part of the desk, that’ll answer. It’s big enough for two, I guess.”
And he began moving his papers around.
“Not there, papa,” said the little tyrant; “no, that’s the sunny side, and little bowwow must be there, ’cause he’s dot the badest cold, and the kitties haven’t dot but little weeny eyes yet, and they must be where it’s most lightest.”
“Well, well, well, where may I sit? I must get to work.”
“You may sit right there, and you mustn’t fiddet, ’cause you’ll upset dolly’s crib, if you do.”
Soon he was safely bestowed, off on one side, and as he obediently kept to his limitations, all proceeded happily.
During this domestic scrimmage, Mrs. Bachelor went on chatting in her lively, pleasant fashion with me, never betraying, in any way, that she overheard the scene in the study. I was so occupied with it, that I could pay no heed to her remarks; but she was a wise woman, and knew that her husband was being cooked to a delicious turn, and that any interference on her part, would spoil the dish. I have since learned that occasionally, when she sees that the fire is really too hot for him, she comes to his rescue.