“Norma carry home meat in a basket! Good God! What on earth has the child been telling you?”
“I never said anything of the kind, Jimmie,” cried Aline, indignantly. “You needn't bring home anything unless you like; our tradesmen are most obliging.”
Norma pushed back her chair from the table and rose and again laughed nervously.
“I am afraid I can't learn all the science of domestic economy in one lesson. I must do it by degrees.” She passed her hand across her forehead. “I'm not used to figures, you see.”
Jimmie looked reproachfully at Aline. “Those horrid little black books!” he exclaimed. “They are enough to give any one a headache. For heaven's sake, have nothing to do with them, dear.”
“But the brokers will come in,” said Norma, with an uncertain catch in her voice.
“They are Aline's pet hobgoblins,” laughed Jimmie. “My dear child,” pointing to the books, “please take those depressing records of wasted hours away.”
When they were alone, he said to Norma very tenderly, “I am afraid my little girl has frightened you.”
She started at the keenness of his perception and flushed.
“No—not frightened.”