“Well,” she sighed, returning to her book, “I suppose I may as well resign myself to the inevitable.”
“Do you think it more than their nearest relatives should do for our children, were they so sorely bereaved?” he asked.
“No, I suppose not; but I have given my consent and what more would you ask?”
“Nothing more, Augusta, except that you will encourage our children to be kind and considerate toward their orphan cousins.”
“Really I know of no one but their father who would expect them to be anything else,” she returned in a not particularly pleasant tone.
“I do not expect it,” he said; “yet think it might be as well to call their attention to the fact that the little orphans are entitled to their kindly sympathy. But I am needed at my place of business and must return at once. Good-by till dinner time, my dear;” and with the last word he left the room.
“Dear me! as if we hadn’t children enough of our own!” exclaimed Mrs. Eldon in a petulant tone, and impatiently tossing aside her book as the sound of her husband’s footsteps died away in the distance. “Albert needn’t talk as if they were to be no trouble to me. Who else is to do the shopping for their clothes, decide how they are to be made and find somebody to do the work? for of course if they don’t look all right, people will talk and say we don’t treat them as well as we do our own.”
At that moment the patter of little feet was heard in the hall without, the door opened and her youngest two came rushing in.
“Oh, mamma,” they exclaimed half breathlessly, “papa has brought us some cousins, nice little things, and we like ’em and want you to see them too. Mayn’t we bring ’em in here?”
“Oh, yes, if you will only be quiet. Will you never learn not to be so noisy?”