“I think not!”
“Well, I know it would,” maintained the architect stoutly. “Why, de Lestis, all of my work would be as nothing if you should put a pigeon house there. I beg of you not to!”
“But, my dear Mr. Carter, I am a pigeon fancier and want my pigeons at a point where I can watch them twirling and dipping. I love their cooing, too.”
“All right! It is your house and you can do as you choose with it, but please do not mention me as the architect who restored the place. I cannot stand for such a piece of Philistinism.” Mr. Carter laughed as he made the above remark, but his daughters knew by a certain look in his eyes that he was angry.
“Are you to have carrier pigeons?” asked Douglas, hoping to relieve the company of an embarrassment that seemed to have fallen upon it.
The secretary still had his mouth drawn in a stern line although he had smoothed his frowning brow. Helen was plainly put out at the count’s daring to go against her father’s artistic taste, while Count de Lestis seemed to be taking a kind of delight in teasing everybody.
“If you will promise to send me a message, I will,” he answered gallantly.
“Oh, that would be great fun! I have never seen a carrier pigeon.”
The count then devoted himself to Douglas for the rest of the visit, showing her the pantry shelves that he had on one occasion expressed himself as desirous for Helen to pass on.