“All right—all right! Make it so, then! Let it be my institution, and she my salaried instructor. Why not? That is an improvement upon the original plan,—decidedly an improvement. People will be less inclined to shirk their tuition fees to me, a grim old lawyer, maybe, than to her. Yet I think she would never lose a penny. How could she,—if men and women are human?”
Mrs. Courtenay had been observing their hostess, and interrupted, gently: “My dear, you are taking for granted the consent of Steenie’s guardians. However, I trust it will not be wanting.” The speaker noticed, regretfully, that the children had returned, and that the little subject of the discussion was standing on the threshold of the room, her lithe young body eagerly poised and her eyes intently watching her grandmother’s face for the answer forthcoming, which was made speedily and courteously, but it struck upon Steenie’s heart with intolerable cruelty.
“Thank you, cordially, my dear friend. Your generous kindness is fully appreciated—fully. But I have already reached a more practical decision,—one which will put more money, even, into Steenie’s pocket than this chimerical, if unselfish scheme of hers could ever do. We will sell Tito. Do you know of a purchaser?”
In the silence which followed this unexpected suggestion, Steenie heard her own heart beat. Then she bounded into the centre of the room, white with fear and indignation.
“Grandmother! Sell—my—Tito!”
“Yes, darling. We can no longer afford to keep him.”
“You mustn’t! You mustn’t! It would break his very heart! I’d rather you’d sell me!”
CHAPTER XIV.
“POOR MR. TUBBS.”