"Yes," said Isabel, placidly.
"The old house needs young voices and the sound of young feet," the
Colonel went on.
Isabel began to speak, then hesitated and relapsed into silence. Mr.
Boffin came in, purring loudly, and rubbed familiarly against the
Colonel, leaving a thin coating of yellow hair.
"It seems to be the moulting season for cats," laughed the Colonel, observing the damage ruefully.
Isabel moved restlessly in her chair, but said nothing. The pause had become awkward when the Colonel rose to take his leave.
"I hope you may be happy," he said, gravely, "and make our old house happier for your coming."
"Oh," returned Isabel, quickly, "I hadn't thought of that. I hadn't thought of—of living there."
"The house is large," he ventured, puzzled.
"Mamma has always said," remarked Isabel, primly, "that no house was large enough for two families."
Colonel Kent managed to force a laugh. "You may be right," he answered.
"At least, everything shall be arranged to your liking."