"Lesson? What lesson?"
"Why, the one you said he needed. I gave it to him, and he's goin' to give me a doll for it."
Fenie looked puzzled for a moment; then her face became very red and she exclaimed:
"You dreadful child! Do you really mean that you have repeated to Harry Trewman the——"
Fenie stopped abruptly, darted to the foot of the stairs, shouted "Trif!" dashed through the hall to the dining room, and exclaimed, "Phil, come into the parlor—this instant." In a moment a mystified couple was staring at a young woman whose beauty was enhanced by a great flush of indignation; they also saw a tearful little girl who seemed to be trying to shrink into nothingness.
It took an hour of scolding, and petting, and warning, and kissing to prepare Trixy for bed, but when the child was finally disposed of Phil drawled:
"If you girls don't want things repeated by that child you mustn't say them in her hearing."
"But she never seems to notice what is said," explained Fenie.
"Umph! Neither does a phonograph cylinder, but it gets them all the same."
"All this talk about Trixy doesn't make our position toward Harry Trewman any the less awkward," said Trif gravely.