“For the present we will let that matter lie in abeyance. Come, give me your authority in writing, and I leave the room; but if you don’t, I stay in this chair—your chair, Henry Dale—all night if necessary.”
If ever there was a poor, bewildered man, it was Mr. Dale at that moment. He did not give many thoughts to anything on earth but his beloved studies; but, all the same, when he had time for a momentary reflection that he possessed girls, he felt that he quite liked them. In his own fashion he was fond of Verena; and once when Briar had a very bad cold he sat with her for a very few minutes, and recommended her to try snuff. He did not wish to make his children unhappy, and he thought that the advent of Miss Tredgold would have that effect on them. But, after all, a determined woman like her must be humored; and what were the children compared to his own most valuable work? In the days to come they would be proud to own him. He would be spoken of as the very great English scholar whose rendering of Virgil was the most perfect that had ever been put into English prose. Oh! it was impossible to hesitate another moment. The woman was in his chair, and his thoughts were leaving him.
“Madam,” he said, “you have taken me at a cruel disadvantage. I am seriously sorry for my poor children.”
“Never mind about that now, Henry. You are, I perceive, a wise man. You can rest assured that I will do what is best both for you and for them.”
“Very well, madam, I yield.”
“You give me absolute authority to do what I think best for your children?”
“Ye—s.”
“To reorganize this household?”
“Not this room.”
“With the exception of this room.”