“I admire big, handsome men . . .”
One of the girls sniffed. This sound let loose the flow of Isabelle’s histrionic remorse.
“Oh, you must listen to me,” she cried, “you cannot condemn me until I have told it all.”
“That is fair,” said the calm voice of Mrs. Benjamin.
“It was always a disappointment to me that my father was so little and queer.”
“But, Isabelle,” interrupted Mrs. Benjamin, quickly.
“Please, I have to say what I think or it isn’t a true story. Wally is much the nicest person in our family, but somehow he never seemed to count with anybody.”
This daring focussed their attention. Mrs. Benjamin shook her head at her husband, who was about to interrupt this performance.
“I wanted a big kind of father, who blustered at you and made you feel respectful. I wanted him to have adventures, like Don Quixote, and make you thrilly all up and down your spine!”