“No, thank you, sir; I would not deprive another more fitted—”
“There’s a new baby giraffe.” This was an attraction never before known to fail in its lure.
“Oh, well, sir, at the Zoölogical Gardens one’s mind harks back, as it were, to children. It’s better not to think of children when you’re in a house where there are none, and none to come—so to speak.”
The next day Marcus got a letter from the only aunt in the world and the letter ran as follows:
Dear Mr. Maitland,—I think it should be clearly understood before we go any further that I have as much right to my brother’s children as you have to the children of your sister. I do not wish to stand in Diana’s way and I am delighted she should have such a chance as you are giving her, but Shan’t is mine. Her mother did not leave her in your charge. She left her in mine. She is a most charming companion, but would be utterly lost upon a bachelor—as you appear to be—living in London.
If, however, at any time you should agree to lend me Diana for a week, I will lend you Shan’t. But it must be quite clearly understood that you do not have both together, at any time. If the two sisters should wish to be together, and it is only natural they should, I think their mother would say the place for them to be together is here. You are not likely to appreciate the extraordinary character of Shan’t, and it is quite possible the child would wear herself out as your slave. With Diana there is no such danger. You will find her delightful, but the slaving must be on your side. Shan’t has just returned safely, so far as I can see none the worse for her adventure. I must thank you for sending her back in the care of so respectable and excellent a woman. Shan’t has a name, by the way: it is Elsie; you must have known it.
Yours truly,
Elsie Carston
“A most disagreeable letter,” said Marcus as he folded it and put it into his pocket, to re-read later. “A most uncalled-for letter. I sent the child back at once. Most men would have kept her.”
He began then and there to wonder why he had not kept her. Talk of dogs! (Miss Carston was devoted to dogs, it seemed.) What dog had ever attracted him as Shan’t had done? What dog had ever looked so willing? Not even a retriever was so humbly anxious to do anything in the world to please. She was such a jolly little thing to hold—so small—so easily crushed—funny, jolly little thing! Why should Miss Carston have her? Under the care of Miss Carston she would grow up a suffragette; would grow up everything a man would wish a girl not to be; self-opinionated, strong-minded, argumentative; always right, never wrong. It was a horrible thought. And Pillar had been perfectly willing that Shan’t should stay. If Pillar didn’t mind, who should?
It was only right that Diana and Shan’t should not be separated. Miss Carston could have Dick in the holidays. That should satisfy her. If anything could satisfy a nature so exacting!