“Upon my soul,” said he, “I haven’t considered the matter. Well—well——”
He walked about the vestibule, revolving this new and alarming proposition. To have a little girl of five planted in his dismal, decorous house—what in the world should he do with her? It would revolutionise his habits. Clementina watched him out of a corner of her eye.
“You didn’t suppose I was going to have all the worry, did you?”
“No, no,” he said hastily. “Of course not. I see I must share all responsibilities with you. Only—won’t she find living with me rather dull?”
“You can keep a lot of cats and dogs and rocking-horses, and give children’s parties,” said Clementina.
Sheila, who had been apparently absorbed in the mysteries of the Parisian toilet of a flaxen-haired doll which Clementina had bought for her at an extravagant price, cheerfully lifted up her face.
“Auntie says that when I come to stay with you, I’m to be mistress of the house.”
“Indeed?” said Quixtus.
“And I’m to be a real lady and sit at the end of the table and entertain the guests.”
“I suppose that settles it?” he said, with a smile.