“I have my reasons—I have my reasons,” was the response.
“And you’re not going to tell the old wifie?”
The ex-merchant went over and patted “old wifie” very fondly on the shoulder. “No, my duckydums,” he said, “no, I’m not going to tell anybody. There, let’s forget it. Of course, I can’t send the girl from the school.”
“Send Kitty Merrydew from Mrs. Fleming’s school! Why, my dear John, you’re mad! I assure you it was extremely difficult to get our girls into a school of that sort, and if we begin to interfere with Mrs. Fleming as regards her pupils, I tell you what it is, John, the sooner our girls are dismissed from the school the better pleased she’ll be.”
“You don’t think so really and truly?”
“Yes, and, what’s more, I am certain of it.”
“Oh well, that clinches the matter. I am as proud as Punch to have them at the school, and, what’s more, I’m thinking that after they leave they’d better go straight to Girton. I’m told it gives a girl a fine polish to send her to Girton. You see, in our case money is of no consequence, but we want to polish up—to polish up what’s rough, to rub away the rust, just to make the girls into fine ladies; that’s what we want.”
“To make the girls into good women,” said Mrs. Dodd.
Dodd stared for a minute at his wife. “I declare,” he exclaimed, “I declare, Mary Anne, how different you make things look! It’s quite wonderful how neatly you settle things. Yes, that’s it, and I’m a silly old man, thinking of turning my girls into fine ladies! If they’re women like you, Mary Anne, they’ll be blessings to their husbands some day, and to their children. Oh dear, what a silly old man I am, to be sure!”
“You’re not a silly old man, John, and I won’t allow you to say it. And now, if you’re not tired, I am. I’m going to bed.”