"She was going up to Mrs. Caukins'. I suppose she is there now—why?"
"Because I want to talk about her, and I don't want her to come in on us suddenly."
"What about Aileen?" She spoke indifferently.
"About her voice; you've never been willing, I understand, to have it cultivated?"
"What if I haven't?"
"That's just the 'what', Aunt Meda," he said pleasantly but earnestly; "I've heard her singing a good many times, and I've never heard her that I didn't wish some one would be generous enough to such talent to pay for cultivating it."
"Do you know why I haven't been willing?"
"No, I don't—and I'd like to know."
"Because, if I had, she would have been on the stage before now—and where could I get another? I don't intend to impoverish myself for her sake—not after what I've done for her." She spoke emphatically. "What was your idea in asking me about her?"
"I thought it was a pity that such a talent should be left to go to seed. I wish you could look at it from my standpoint and give her the wherewithal to go to Europe for three or four years in order to cultivate it—she can take care of herself well enough."