CHAPTER XXX
DADDY’S HEART
I wonder is there a woman in the world who is not touched by a gift of beautiful furs?
It was fortunate for Regina that she had been in the past accustomed to live her life a good deal to herself. An ordinary wife and mother who started out on a scheme of rejuvenation as elaborate as that of Mrs. Whittaker’s would find it extremely difficult to account for the hours which she would have to spend outside her own house. The ordinary young girl in decent society usually has to explain to her mother what she has done with her day, sometimes what she is going to do, and must generally gain permission for any expedition which she desires to make. I have known young girls who considered surveillance to be what they indignantly termed espionage, and I have known much heart burning, much kicking against the pricks from the girls of the family because they were not, like their brothers, free as the wind, to go where they listed. But I must tell my readers that the espionage of mothers over daughters is as nothing compared to the espionage of daughters over a popular mother.
In a certain household with which I am intimately acquainted, these are some scraps of conversation which may frequently be heard:
“Well, darling, where are you going to-day?”
“Oh, I’m going out and about; I want to go along the High Street, and then perhaps I’ll go to tea with So-and-So, and I half promised to go to Fuller’s to tea with such and such a boy. I’m not going far away. I shall be out and about. Why—do you want me?”
“Oh no, dear. Be in by dinner time.”
On the other hand, this is a scrap or conversation from the same family: