Part 3 (1/2)

”Take the children away!” said Mrs. Gerard. But she bent over, kissing each culprit as the file pa.s.sed out, convoyed by the amply revenged nurses. ”No marmalade, remember; and mother has a great mind _not_ to come up at bedtime and lean over you. Mother has no desire to lean over her babies to-night.”

To ”lean over” the children was always expected of this mother; the direst punishment on the rather brief list was to omit this intimate evening ceremony.

”M-mother,” stammered the Master of Fox Hounds, ”you _will_ lean over us, won't you?”

”Mother hasn't decided--”

”Oh, muvver!” wailed Josie; and a howl of grief and dismay rose from Winthrop, modified to a gurgle by the forbidden finger.

”You _will_, won't you?” begged Drina. ”We've been pretty bad, but not bad enough for that!”

”I--Oh, yes, I will. Stop that noise, Winthrop! Josie, I'm going to lean over you--and you, too, Clemence, baby. Katie, take those dogs away immediately; and remember about the marmalade.”

Rea.s.sured, smiling through tears, the children trooped off, it being the bathing hour; and Mrs. Gerard threw her fur stole over one shoulder and linked her slender arm in her brother's.

”You see, I'm not much of a mother,” she said; ”if I was I'd stay here all day and every day, week in and year out, and try to make these poor infants happy. I have no business to leave them for one second!”

”Wouldn't they get too much of you?” suggested Selwyn.

”Thanks. I suppose that even a mother had better practise an artistic absence occasionally. Are they not sweet? _What_ do you think of them?

You never before saw the three youngest; you saw Drina when you went east--and Billy was a few months old--what do you think of them?

Honestly, Phil?”

”All to the good, Ninette; very ornamental. Drina--and that Josephine kid are real beauties. I--er--take to Billy tremendously. He told me that he'd locked up his nurses. I ought to have interfered. It was really my fault, you see.”

”And you didn't make him let them out? You are not going to be very good morally for my young. Tell me, Phil, have you seen Austin?”

”I went to the Trust Company, but he was attending a directors' confab.

How is he? He's prosperous anyhow, I observe,” with a humorous glance around the elaborate hallway which they were traversing.

”Don't dare laugh at us!” smiled his sister. ”I wish we were back in Tenth Street. But so many children came--Billy, Josephine, Winthrop, and Tina--and the Tenth Street house wasn't half big enough; and a dreadful speculative builder built this house and persuaded Austin to buy it. Oh, dear, and here we are among the rich and great; and the steel kings and copper kings and oil kings and their heirs and dauphins. _Do_ you like the house?”

”It's--ah--roomy,” he said cheerfully.

”Oh! It isn't so bad from the outside. And we have just had it redecorated inside. Mizner did it. Look, dear, isn't that a cunning bedroom?” drawing him toward a partly open door. ”Don't be so horridly critical. Austin is becoming used to it now, so don't stir him up and make fun of things. Anyway you're going to stay here.”

”No, I'm at the Holland.”

”Of _course_ you're to live with us. You've resigned from the service, haven't you?”

He looked at her sharply, but did not reply.

A curious flash of telepathy pa.s.sed between them; she hesitated, then:

”You once promised Austin and me that you would stay with us.”

”But, Nina--”

”No, no, no! Wait,” pressing an electric b.u.t.ton; ”Watson, Captain Selwyn's luggage is to be brought here immediately from the Holland!