"The picture of her, sitting in the half light at the grand piano, with the babies
in her arms and at her knee ... was quite irresistible"
But before we sat down to dinner both babies had been put to bed. The Cashier remained with me while Azalea was busy at this task, but he excused himself toward the last, and went tiptoeing upstairs, where I think he must have offered his services in getting the children tucked away. While he was gone the Philosopher arrived.
I let him in myself, motioning the maid away. It was a small house, and I knew she was needed in the kitchen. "Don't make a bit of noise," I cautioned him, as he came smiling into the little hall. "The babies are going to bed."
"Babies!" whispered the Philosopher, in an awestruck way. "I didn't know there were any babies."
"Of course you knew it," I whispered back, leading him into the room. "If you would only store away really important facts in that capacious mind of yours, instead of limiting it to——"
"Tell me how many babies, and of what sex—quick!" commanded the Philosopher, "or I shall say the wrong thing. And how on earth do they come to know enough to put their babies to bed before they ask a bachelor to dine, anyhow?"
I hastily set him straight upon these points, adding that Azalea had developed wonderfully.
"You mean she can soar to high Q now, I suppose?" interpreted the Philosopher.
"Not at all. I mean that she's——"