"And you thought that I was a baby still—only an encumbrance, to be sent away from you when you had other troubles to think of?"
"My best comforter, rather."
"Well then, mother, I have my plan, which is better than yours, and more practicable, too."
"Mine is perfectly practicable; I have thought well of it."
"It is impracticable; because I am not going to England, or indeed to leave you at all."
"But, Lucia, I have written to my cousin."
"I am very sorry, mamma, but I cannot help it. Indeed, I do not want to be disobedient, or to vex you, but you must see that if I did go it would only make us both wretched, and besides, it would not be right."
Mrs. Costello sighed.
"How not right?"
"I think, mother, that when people know who we are—I mean when my father comes here—there will be a great deal of speculation and gossip about us all, and people will watch us very closely, and that it would be better if when you bring him home, everything should be as if he had never been away from us. Do you know what I mean?"