“I know” cried Arthur, “you needn’t say it. You won’t answer for the consequences?”
“I won’t. For the consequences, a woman—in the weak state your wife is in—may answer herself—with her life.”
Aggie was immensely relieved. So they were only talking about her all the time!
That night her husband told her that her release had come. It had been ordained that she was to rest for two years. And she was to have help. They must have a girl.
“Arthur,” she said, firmly, “I won’t have a girl. They’re worse than charwomen. They eat more; and we can’t afford it.”
“We must afford it. And oh, another thing—Have you ever thought of the children’s education?”
Thought of it? She had thought of nothing else, lying awake at night, waiting for the baby’s cry; sitting in the daytime, stitching at the small garments that were always just too small.
“Of course,” she said, submissively. She was willing to yield the glory of the idea to him.
“Well,” he said, “I don’t know how we’re going to manage it. One thing I do know—there mustn’t be any more of them. I can’t afford it.”
He had said that before so often that Aggie had felt inclined to tell him that she couldn’t afford it, either. But to-night she was silent, for he didn’t know she knew. And as she saw that he (who did know) was trying to spare her, she blessed him in her heart.