“Not at all. It was sheer tact on my part.”
Tea was a merry meal, with both Lynette and her father dilating on the particular excellences of the different cakes, and insisting that she would be pleasing Sarah by allowing herself to be greedy. In the fullness of time Canterton lit a pipe, and Lynette, sitting next him on the green rug with her arms about her knees, grew talkative and problematical.
“Isn’t it funny how God sends people children?”
“Most strange.”
“What did you say, daddy, when God sent you me?”
“‘Here’s another horrible responsibility!’”
“Daddy, you didn’t! But wasn’t it funny that I was sent to mother?”
“Lynette, old lady——”
“Now, why wasn’t I sent to Miss Eve?”
Canterton reached out and lifted her into his lap.