"Pray, madam," he demanded in irate tone, "by whose orders was that cubby-hole prepared for the use of Horace's child?"
"That very nice little room next the nursery was the one selected by myself," she answered with dignity.
"Nice little room, indeed!" he returned with scorn; "ten feet by twelve! that for one born in a palace and reared, thus far, in the very lap of luxury!"
"Plenty good enough and big enough for old Grayson's grandchild!" observed the wife, turning up her aristocratic nose in supreme contempt.
"Madam, she is also my grandchild, and heiress in her own right to over a million."
Mrs. Dinsmore's look expressed, first, astonishment, then jealous rage and envy. "And the very incarnation of beauty!" she muttered between her clenched teeth. "What did you bring her here for—to cast our children into the shade? I hate her! What have you been doing? where have you put her?"
"In the blue room."
"The blue room! one of the very best in the house! the blue satin damask cushions of the chairs and sofas are so handsome and delicate! and to think of the sun being let in to fade them, and a baby rubbing its shoes over them, and scattering greasy crumbs on them; and that exquisite carpet! It's too trying for flesh and blood to stand!" and the handkerchief went up to her eyes.
"It's not worth while to distress yourself," he remarked coolly; "her income is quite sufficient to allow of it's being refurnished at double the cost every six months if necessary."