January 30th. I ventured on the subject of Caro with David last night, and find myself wondering many things. The fact that I have always admitted the children’s full right to reserve from me any secret they wished to keep largely accounts, I believe, for the closeness of their confidence. And I didn’t intend to pry now—only to open a way in case he chose to take it, as I used sometimes to make confidences easy for him as a child.
“Bob White is laying siege to Cousin Jane’s favor, Davy, dear,” I said, using the baby name he still loves in our private talks. “She has sold him her good-will for a four-course lunch.”
David laughed a little.
“Worst affliction could happen to him, I should think. What on earth does he want with it?”
“She thinks he’s in love with Caro.”
“Probably is. Most of the fellows are; and Bob’s nobody’s fool.”
He had cuddled his brown head under my hand as he sat on a stool by my bed, and I couldn’t see his face. His voice was so very natural that it suggested an effort to make it so.
“Well, I doubt if he displayed any special wisdom when he tried to win Cousin Jane over—if he tried,” I said. “When you go courting, I don’t think you’ll spend much time on the girl’s guardians.”
“Not much time on anybody, you mean, till I get things settled.”
“And you’d rather I waited with the rest, dear, wouldn’t you?”