Princess Sukey stood severely staring at the Judge.
He was in his favorite place—in his own study, with his own dear books, in his own capacious armchair, and with his door wide open for little Bethany’s noon homecoming.
It was not yet time for her to come, and to-day she would be late, for she had warned “Daddy Grandpa” that she must stay for a few minutes after school to talk about a birthday party that one of her schoolmates was about to give.
In the meantime the Judge, sitting comfortably back in his chair, was occupied with his own thoughts, and uncommonly lively thoughts they were, judging by his face.
The pigeon stared still more severely. Being of a serious disposition, she never approved of laughter—and the Judge was laughing now.
He was thinking of Airy. Her pranks amused him immensely. The day before she had been invited to dine with him. The Judge could see her coming into the room, her mouth primly set, her sharp eyes going to and fro. She did nothing spontaneously. With slavish imitation she studied the other children. She ate as Bethany did, she made use of Dallas’s and Titus’s phrases, and if she had not one of theirs at hand she kept silence.
“Upon my word, Sukey,” said the Judge, mischievously, to the pigeon, “I believe Airy is going to make a lady of herself, after all. They say that a faithful imitation is a good original. I foresee, though, many lessons ahead for us. The little witch has made up her mind to spend a good part of her time in studying us. Well, we don’t care—we don’t care,” and he laughed again.
“It seems to me,” he said at last, taking off his glasses and wiping them with his handkerchief, “that I laugh far more over children than I used to. I believe that as a young man I took my family too seriously. Certain it is that I get more real amusement and enjoyment out of the children of my adoption than I did out of my own dear little ones. How I wish I had them round me now!” and he sighed.
The pigeon wrathfully shook herself. She wanted no more children about. There were too many now for her taste, and elevating her head she said, sharply, a great many times, “Rookety cahoo! rookety cahoo!”
The Judge looked at her. Her greenish-yellow eyes were fixed on him with a steady glare. They seemed to mesmerize him, and in two minutes the Judge’s dear old white head was nodding.