"Mrs. Gray would always think first of what your father would like."
Alice scratched lines in the gravel with one of Danny's sticks. "I suppose she would," she admitted.
"And what did Lute say?"
"Oh, he wouldn't listen to it. But I thought maybe you could make him, Dr. Lavendar?"
"I?" said Dr. Lavendar. "No, thank you. Do you think I'd rob the boy?"
"Rob him?"
"Of his self-respect; a boy wants to stand on his own legs; he doesn't want a girl propping him up. You let Lute alone. He'll manage. And you're young yet, anyhow. It won't hurt ye to wait. Mrs. Gray is right. You learn to be as good a housekeeper as she is; and though you mayn't put money into Lute's pocket before you're married, you'll not be taking it out after you're married."
Alice sighed. "Oh, I wish I could help Lute; I wish I had a lot of money."
"A lot of sense is better," Dr. Lavendar said, chuckling. "Oh, you women! You steal a man's unselfishness and self-respect, and you put it down to love. Love? You're a pack of thieves, the lot of you. You ought to be prosecuted. I'd do it, if I had time. Hey, Danny! bite her; she's like all the rest of 'em."
Alice hugged him, and defended herself. "You're just an old bachelor; you don't appreciate us."