“First it was our parents,” said Captain Price. He frowned heavily. “According to other people, first we were too young to have sense; and now we're too old.” He took out his worn old pouch, plugged some shag into his pipe, and struck a match under the mantelpiece. He sighed, with deep discouragement.
Mrs. North sighed too. Neither of them spoke for a moment; then the little old lady drew a quick breath and flashed a look at him; opened her lips; closed them with a snap; then regarded the toe of her slipper fixedly.
The Captain, staring hopelessly, suddenly blinked; then his honest red face slowly broadened into beaming astonishment and satisfaction. “Mrs. North—”
“Captain Price!” she parried, breathlessly.
“So long as our affectionate children have suggested it!”
“Suggested—what?”
“Let's give 'em something to cry about!”
“Alfred!”
“Look here: we are two old fools; so they say, anyway. Let's live up to their opinion. I'll get a house for Cyrus and Gussie,—and your girl can live with 'em, if she wants to!” The Captain's bitterness showed then.
“She could live here,” murmured Mrs. North.