"Not especially. Few men do at first. But it trains him. And it makes a hold in the world for him."
"What do you mean?"
"Children make a home—you have to have one. The man can't run away and forget it."
She smiled with her droll expression of worldly wisdom.
"Sam would be in mischief half the time, if it weren't for us. He'd be running here and there, sitting up all hours, wasting his energies smoking and drinking with everybody he met—and now he can't—very much."
"But—but—how about you?"
"Oh," the little woman continued calmly, "I don't flatter myself that I could hold my husband long alone, without the children." She looked Milly straight in the eyes and smiled. "Few women can, you know."
"I don't see why not."
"They get used to us—in every way—and want change, don't you see that? They know every idea we have, every habit, every look good and bad—clever men, especially."
"So we know them!"