“I have it!”
“What?” I cried, sitting up in a great hurry. “What is it? What have you got? What's the matter?”
“I know it!” she said, “I know it. Our boarder is a GRANDFATHER! Little Adele is the grown-up daughter's child. He was quite particular to say that his wife married VERY young. Just to think of it! So short a time ago, he was living with us—a bachelor—and now, in four short months, he is a grandfather!”
Carefully propounded inquiries, in the morning, proved Euphemia's conclusions to be correct.
The next evening, when we were quietly sitting in our own room, Euphemia remarked that she did not wish to have anything to do with French flats.
“They seem to be very convenient,” I said.
“Oh yes, convenient enough, but I don't like them. I would hate to live where everything let down like a table-lid, or else turned with a crank. And when I think of those fire-escapes, and the boarder's grandchild, it makes me feel very unpleasantly.”
“But the grandchild don't follow as a matter of course,” said I.
“No,” she answered, “but I shall never like French flats.”
And we discussed them no more.