"
"Dearest papa," cried Clara, throwing her arms about him. "Do not be
angry with us. If you understood all, you would see that there is no
harm in it."
"No harm, miss! Who is the best judge of that?"
"Mrs. Westmacott," suggested Ida, slyly.
The Doctor sprang from his chair. "Confound Mrs. Westmacott!" he cried,
striking frenziedly into the air with his hands. "Am I to hear of
nothing but this woman? Is she to confront me at every turn? I will
endure it no longer."
"But it was your wish, papa."
"Then I will tell you now what my second and wiser wish is, and we shall
see if you will obey it as you have the first."
"Of course we will, papa."
"Then my wish is, that you should forget these odious notions which you
have imbibed, that you should dress and act as you used to do, before
ever you saw this woman, and that, in future, you confine your
intercourse with her to such civilities as are necessary between
neighbors."
"We are to give up Mrs. Westmacott?"
"Or give up me."
"Oh, dear dad, how can you say anything so cruel?" cried Ida, burrowing
her towsy golden hair into her father's shirt front, while Clara pressed
her cheek against his whisker. "Of course we shall give her up, if you
prefer it.
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