Meg did think it over, found it good, and acted upon it,though the first attempt was not made exactly as she planned to have it.Of course the children tyrannized over her,and ruled the house as soon as they found out that kicking and squalling brought them whatever they wanted.Mamma was an abject slave to their caprices, but Papa was not so easily subjugated,and occasionally afflicted his tender spouse by an attempt at paternal discipline with his obstreperous son.For Demi inherited a trifle of his sire’s firmness of character, we won’t call it obstinacy,and when he made up his little mind to have or to do anything,all the king’s horses and all the king’s men could not change that pertinacious little mind.Mamma thought the dear too young to be taught to conquer his prejudices,but Papa believed that it never was too soon to learn obedience.So Master Demi early discovered that when he undertook to ‘wrastle’ with ‘Parpar’,he always got the worst of it, yet like the Englishman, baby respected the man who conquered him,and loved the father whose grave “No, no,” was more impressive than all Mamma’s love pats.
A few days after the talk with her mother, Meg resolved to try a social evening with John,so she ordered a nice supper, set the parlor in order, dressed herself prettily,and put the children to bed early, that nothing should interfere with her experiment.But unfortunately Demi’s most unconquerable prejudice was against going to bed,and that night he decided to go on a rampage. So poor Meg sang and rocked,told stories and tried every sleep-prevoking wile she could devise, but all in vain,the big eyes wouldn’t shut, and long after Daisy had gone to byelow,like the chubby little bunch of good nature she was, naughty Demi lay staring at the light,with the most discouragingly wide-awake expression of countenance.
“Will Demi lie still like a good boy, while Mamma runs down and gives poor Papa his tea?” asked Meg, as the hall door softly closed,and the well-known step went tip-toeing into the dining room.
“Me has tea!” said Demi, preparing to join in the revel.
“No, but I’ll save you some little cakies for breakfast, if you’ll go bye-bye like Daisy. Will you, lovey?”
“Iss!” and Demi shut his eyes tight, as if to catch sleep and hurry the desired day.
Taking advantage of the propitious moment,Meg slipped away and ran down to greet her husband with a smiling face and the little blue bow in her hair which was his especial admiration.He saw it at once and said with pleased surprise, “Why, little mother, how gay we are tonight. Do you expect company?”
“Only you, dear.”
“Is it a birthday, anniversary, or anything?”
“No, I’m tired of being dowdy, so I dressed up as a change. You always make yourself nice for table,no matter how tired you are, so why shouldn’t I when I have the time?”
“I do it out of respect for you, my dear,” said old-fashioned John.
“Ditto, ditto, Mr. Brooke,” laughed Meg, looking young and pretty again, as she nodded to him over the teapot.
“Well, it’s altogether delightful, and like old times. This tastes right. I drink your health, dear.” and John sipped his tea with an air of reposeful rapture,which was of very short duration however, for as he put down his cup,the door handle rattled mysteriously, and a little voice was heard, saying impatiently...
“Opy doy. Me’s tummin!”
“It’s that naughty boy. I told him to go to sleep alone, and here he is, downstairs,getting his death a-cold pattering over that canvas,” said Meg, answering the call.
“Mornin’ now,” announced Demi in joyful tone as he entered,with his long nightgown gracefully festooned over his arm and every curl bobbing gayly as he pranced about the table,eyeing the ‘cakies’ with loving glances.
“No, it isn’t morning yet. You must go to bed, and not trouble poor Mamma.Then you can have the little cake with sugar on it.”
“Me loves Parpar,” said the artful one, preparing to climb the paternal knee and revel in forbidden joys.But John shook his head, and said to Meg...
“If you told him to stay up there, and go to sleep alone, make him do it, or he will never learn to mind you.”
“Yes, of course. Come, Demi,” and Meg led her son away,feeling a strong desire to spank the little marplot who hopped beside her,laboring under the delusion that the bribe was to be administered as soon as they reached the nursery.
Nor was he disappointed, for that shortsighted woman actually gave him a lump of sugar,tucked him into his bed, and forbade any more promenades till morning.
“Iss!” said Demi the perjured, blissfully sucking his sugar,and regarding his first attempt as eminently successful.
Meg returned to her place, and supper was progressing pleasantly,when the little ghost walked again, and exposed the maternal delinquencies by boldly demanding, “More sudar, Marmar.”
“Now this won’t do,” said John, hardening his heart against the engaging little sinner.“We shall never know any peace till that child learns to go to bed properly.You have made a slave of yourself long enough. Give him one lesson,and then there will be an end of it. Put him in his bed and leave him, Meg.”
“He won’t stay there, he never does unless I sit by him.”
“I’ll manage him. Demi, go upstairs, and get into your bed, as Mamma bids you.”
“S’ant!” replied the young rebel, helping himself to the coveted ‘cakie’,and beginning to eat the same with calm audacity.
“You must never say that to Papa. I shall carry you if you don’t go yourself.”
“Go ’way, me don’t love Parpar.” and Demi retired to his mother’s skirts for protection.
But even that refuge proved unavailing, for he was delivered over to the enemy,with a “Be gentle with him, John,” which struck the culprit with dismay,for when Mamma deserted him, then the judgment day was at hand. Bereft of his cake,defrauded of his frolic, and borne away by a strong hand to that detested bed,poor Demi could not restrain his wrath, but openly defied Papa,and kicked and screamed lustily all the way upstairs. The minute he was put into bed on one side,he rolled out on the other, and made for the door,only to be ignominiously caught up by the tail of his little toga and put back again,which lively performance was kept up till the young man’s strength gave out,when he devoted himself to roaring at the top of his voice.This vocal exercise usually conquered Meg,but John sat as unmoved as the post which is popularly believed to be deaf. No coaxing, no sugar,no lullaby, no story, even the light was put out and only the red glow of the fire enlivened the ‘big dark’ which Demi regarded with curiosity rather than fear. This new order of things disgusted him, and he howled dismally for ‘Marmar’, as his angry passions subsided, and recollections of his tender bondwoman returned to the captive autocrat. The plaintive wail which succeeded the passionate roar went to Meg’s heart, and she ran up to say beseechingly...
“Let me stay with him, he’ll be good now, John.”
“No, my dear. I’ve told him he must go to sleep, as you bid him, and he must, if I stay here all night.”
“But he’ll cry himself sick,” pleaded Meg, reproaching herself for deserting her boy.
“No, he won’t, he’s so tired he will soon drop off and then the matter is settled,for he will understand that he has got to mind. Don’t interfere, I’ll manage him.”
“He’s my child, and I can’t have his spirit broken by harshness.”
“He’s my child, and I won’t have his temper spoiled by indulgence. Go down, my dear, and leave the boy to me.”
When John spoke in that masterful tone, Meg always obeyed, and never regretted her docility.
“Please let me kiss him once, John?”
“Certainly. Demi, say good night to Mamma, and let her go and rest,for she is very tired with taking care of you all day.”
Meg always insisted upon it that the kiss won the victory, for after it was given,Demi sobbed more quietly, and lay quite still at the bottom of the bed,whither he had wriggled in his anguish of mind.
“Poor little man, he’s worn out with sleep and crying. I’ll cover him up,and then go and set Meg’s heart at rest,” thought John, creeping to the bedside,hoping to find his rebellious heir asleep.
But he wasn’t, for the moment his father peeped at him, Demi’s eyes opened,his little chin began to quiver, and he put up his arms, saying with a penitent hiccough, “Me’s dood, now.”
Sitting on the stairs outside Meg wondered at the long silence which followed the uproar,and after imagining all sorts of impossible accidents,she slipped into the room to set her fears at rest. Demi lay fast asleep,not in his usual spreadeagle attitude, but in a subdued bunch,cuddled close in the circle of his father’s arm and holding his father’s finger,as if he felt that justice was tempered with mercy, and had gone to sleep a sadder and wiser baby.So held, John had waited with a womanly patience till the little hand relaxed its hold,and while waiting had fallen asleep, more tired by that tussle with his son than with his whole day’s work.
As Meg stood watching the two faces on the pillow, she smiled to herself,and then slipped away again, saying in a satisfied tone,“I never need fear that John will be too harsh with my babies. He does know how to manage them,and will be a great help, for Demi is getting too much for me.”
When John came down at last, expecting to find a pensive or reproachful wife,he was agreeably surprised to find Meg placidly trimming a bonnet,and to be greeted with the request to read something about the election, if he was not too tired.John saw in a minute that a revolution of some kind was going on, but wisely asked no questions,knowing that Meg was such a transparent little person, she couldn’t keep a secret to save her life,and therefore the clue would soon appear.He read a long debate with the most amiable readiness and then explained it in his most lucid manner,while Meg tried to look deeply interested, to ask intelligent questions,and keep her thoughts from wandering from the state of the nation to the state of her bonnet.In her secret soul, however, she decided that politics were as bad as mathematics,and that the mission of politicians seemed to be calling each other names,but she kept these feminine ideas to herself, and when John paused,shook her head and said with what she thought diplomatic ambiguity, “Well,I really don’t see what we are coming to.”
John laughed, and watched her for a minute,as she poised a pretty little preparation of lace and flowers on her hand,and regarded it with the genuine interest which his harangue had failed to waken.
“She is trying to like politics for my sake, so I’ll try and like millinery for hers,that’s only fair,” thought John the Just, adding aloud, “That’s very pretty. Is it what you call a breakfast cap?”
“My dear man, it’s a bonnet!My very best go-to-concert-and-theater bonnet.”
“I beg your pardon, it was so small, I naturally mistook it for one of the flyaway things you sometimes wear. How do you keep it on?”
“These bits of lace are fastened under the chin with a rosebud, so,” and Meg illustrated by putting on the bonnet and regarding him with an air of calm satisfaction that was irresistible.
“It’s a love of a bonnet, but I prefer the face inside, for it looks young and happy again,” and John kissed the smiling face, to the great detriment of the rosebud under the chin.
“I’m glad you like it, for I want you to take me to one of the new concerts some night.I really need some music to put me in tune. Will you, please?”
“Of course I will, with all my heart, or anywhere else you like. You have been shut up so long,it will do you no end of good, and I shall enjoy it, of all things. What put it into your head, little mother?”
“Well, I had a talk with Marmee the other day,and told her how nervous and cross and out of sorts I felt,and she said I needed change and less care, so Hannah is to help me with the children,and I’m to see to things about the house more, and now and then have a little fun,just to keep me from getting to be a fidgety, broken-down old woman before my time.It’s only an experiment, John, and I want to try it for your sake as much as for mine,because I’ve neglected you shamefully lately, and I’m going to make home what it used to be, if I can. You don’t object, I hope?”
Never mind what John said, or what a very narrow escape the little bonnet had from utter ruin.All that we have any business to know is that John did not appear to object,judging from the changes which gradually took place in the house and its inmates.It was not all Paradise by any means, but everyone was better for the division of labor system.The children throve under the paternal rule, for accurate,steadfast John brought order and obedience into Babydom,while Meg recovered her spirits and composed her nerves by plenty of wholesome exercise,a little pleasure, and much confidential conversation with her sensible husband.Home grew homelike again, and John had no wish to leave it, unless he took Meg with him.The Scotts came to the Brookes’ now, and everyone found the little house a cheerful place,full of happiness, content, and family love. Even Sallie Moffatt liked to go there.“It is always so quiet and pleasant here, it does me good, Meg,” she used to say,looking about her with wistful eyes, as if trying to discover the charm,that she might use it in her great house, full of splendid loneliness, for there were no riotous,sunny-faced babies there, and Ned lived in a world of his own, where there was no place for her.
This household happiness did not come all at once, but John and Meg had found the key to it,and each year of married life taught them how to use it,unlocking the treasuries of real home love and mutual helpfulness, which the poorest may possess,and the richest cannot buy. This is the sort of shelf on which young wives and mothers may consent to be laid,safe from the restless fret and fever of the world,finding loyal lovers in the little sons and daughters who cling to them, undaunted by sorrow,poverty, or age, walking side by side, through fair and stormy weather, with a faithful friend,who is, in the true sense of the good old Saxon word, the ‘house-band’, and learning,as Meg learned, that a woman’s happiest kingdom is home,her highest honor the art of ruling it not as a queen, but as a wise wife and mother.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE LAZY LAURENCE
Laurie went to Nice intending to stay a week, and remained a month.He was tired of wandering about alone, and Amy’s familiar presence seemed to give a homelike charm to the foreign scenes in which she bore a part.He rather missed the ‘petting’ he used to receive, and enjoyed a taste of it again,for no attentions, however flattering, from strangers,were half so pleasant as the sisterly adoration of the girls at home.Amy never would pet him like the others, but she was very glad to see him now,and quite clung to him, feeling that he was the representative of the dear family for whom she longed more than she would confess.They naturally took comfort in each other’s society and were much together, riding, walking,dancing, or dawdling, for at Nice no one can be very industrious during the gay season. But,while apparently amusing themselves in the most careless fashion,they were half-consciously making discoveries and forming opinions about each other.Amy rose daily in the estimation of her friend, but he sank in hers,and each felt the truth before a word was spoken. Amy tried to please, and succeeded,for she was grateful for the many pleasures he gave her,and repaid him with the little services to which womanly women know how to lend an indescribable charm.Laurie made no effort of any kind, but just let himself drift along as comfortably as possible,trying to forget, and feeling that all women owed him a kind word because one had been cold to him.It cost him no effort to be generous, and he would have given Amy all the trinkets in Nice if she would have taken them,but at the same time he felt that he could not change the opinion she was forming of him,and he rather dreaded the keen blue eyes that seemed to watch him with such half-sorrowful, half-scornful surprise.
“All the rest have gone to Monaco for the day. I preferred to stay at home and write letters.They are done now, and I am going to Valrosa to sketch, will you come?” said Amy, as she joined Laurie one lovely day when he lounged in as usual, about noon.
“Well, yes, but isn’t it rather warm for such a long walk?” he answered slowly, for the shaded salon looked inviting after the glare without.
“I’m going to have the little carriage, and Baptiste can drive,so you’ll have nothing to do but hold your umbrella, and keep your gloves nice,” returned Amy,with a sarcastic glance at the immaculate kids, which were a weak point with Laurie.
“Then I’ll go with pleasure.” and he put out his hand for her sketchbook.But she tucked it under her arm with a sharp...
“Don’t trouble yourself. It’s no exertion to me, but you don’t look equal to it.”
Laurie lifted his eyebrows and followed at a leisurely pace as she ran downstairs,but when they got into the carriage he took the reins himself,and left little Baptiste nothing to do but fold his arms and fall asleep on his perch.
The two never quarreled. Amy was too well-bred, and just now Laurie was too lazy,so in a minute he peeped under her hatbrim with an inquiring air. She answered him with a smile,and they went on together in the most amicable manner.
It was a lovely drive, along winding roads rich in the picturesque scenes that delight beauty-loving eyes.Here an ancient monastery, whence the solemn chanting of the monks came down to them.There a bare-legged shepherd, in wooden shoes, pointed hat, and rough jacket over one shoulder,sat piping on a stone while his goats skipped among the rocks or lay at his feet. Meek,mouse-colored donkeys, laden with panniers of freshly cut grass passed by,with a pretty girl in a capaline sitting between the green piles,or an old woman spinning with a distaff as she went. Brown,soft-eyed children ran out from the quaint stone hovels to offer nosegays,or bunches of oranges still on the bough.Gnarled olive trees covered the hills with their dusky foliage, fruit hung golden in the orchard,and great scarlet anemones fringed the roadside, while beyond green slopes and craggy heights,the Maritime Alps rose sharp and white against the blue Italian sky.
Valrosa well deserved its name, for in that climate of perpetual summer roses blossomed everywhere.They overhung the archway, thrust themselves between the bars of the great gate with a sweet welcome to passers-by,and lined the avenue, winding through lemon trees and feathery palms up to the villa on the hill.Every shadowy nook, where seats invited one to stop and rest, was a mass of bloom,every cool grotto had its marble nymph smiling from a veil of flowers and every fountain reflected crimson,white, or pale pink roses, leaning down to smile at their own beauty.Roses covered the walls of the house, draped the cornices, climbed the pillars,and ran riot over the balustrade of the wide terrace,whence one looked down on the sunny Mediterranean, and the white-walled city on its shore.
“This is a regular honeymoon paradise, isn’t it?Did you ever see such roses?” asked Amy, pausing on the terrace to enjoy the view,and a luxurious whiff of perfume that came wandering by.
“No, nor felt such thorns,” returned Laurie, with his thumb in his mouth,after a vain attempt to capture a solitary scarlet flower that grew just beyond his reach.
“Try lower down, and pick those that have no thorns,” said Amy,gathering three of the tiny cream-colored ones that starred the wall behind her.She put them in his buttonhole as a peace offering,and he stood a minute looking down at them with a curious expression,for in the Italian part of his nature there was a touch of superstition,and he was just then in that state of half-sweet, half-bitter melancholy,when imaginative young men find significance in trifles and food for romance everywhere.He had thought of Jo in reaching after the thorny red rose, for vivid flowers became her,and she had often worn ones like that from the greenhouse at home.The pale roses Amy gave him were the sort that the Italians lay in dead hands,never in bridal wreaths, and for a moment he wondered if the omen was for Jo or for himself,but the next instant his American common sense got the better of sentimentality,and he laughed a heartier laugh than Amy had heard since he came.
“It’s good advice, you’d better take it and save your fingers,” she said, thinking her speech amused him.
“Thank you, I will,” he answered in jest, and a few months later he did it in earnest.
“Laurie, when are you going to your grandfather?” she asked presently, as she settled herself on a rustic seat.
“Very soon.”
“You have said that a dozen times within the last three weeks.”
“I dare say, short answers save trouble.”
“He expects you, and you really ought to go.”
“Hospitable creature!I know it.”
“Then why don’t you do it?”
“Natural depravity, I suppose.”
“Natural indolence, you mean. It’s really dreadful!” and Amy looked severe.
“Not so bad as it seems, for I should only plague him if I went,so I might as well stay and plague you a little longer, you can bear it better,in fact I think it agrees with you excellently,” and Laurie composed himself for a lounge on the broad ledge of the balustrade.
Amy shook her head and opened her sketchbook with an air of resignation,but she had made up her mind to lecture ‘that boy’ and in a minute she began again.
“What are you doing just now?”
“Watching lizards.”
“No, no. I mean what do you intend and wish to do?”
“Smoke a cigarette, if you’ll allow me.”
“How provoking you are!I don’t approve of cigars and I will only allow it on condition that you let me put you into my sketch. I need a figure.”
“With all the pleasure in life. How will you have me, full length or three-quarters, on my head or my heels?I should respectfully suggest a recumbent posture,then put yourself in also and call it ‘Dolce far niente’.”
“Stay as you are, and go to sleep if you like. I intend to work hard, ” said Amy in her most energetic tone.
“What delightful enthusiasm!” and he leaned against a tall urn with an air of entire satisfaction.
“What would Jo say if she saw you now?” asked Amy impatiently, hoping to stir him up by the mention of her still more energetic sister’s name.
“As usual, ‘Go away, Teddy. I’m busy!’” He laughed as he spoke, but the laugh was not natural, and a shade passed over his face,for the utterance of the familiar name touched the wound that was not healed yet.Both tone and shadow struck Amy, for she had seen and heard them before,and now she looked up in time to catch a new expression on Laurie’s face—a hard bitter look,full of pain, dissatisfaction, and regret.It was gone before she could study it and the listless expression back again.She watched him for a moment with artistic pleasure, thinking how like an Italian he looked,as he lay basking in the sun with uncovered head and eyes full of southern dreaminess,for he seemed to have forgotten her and fallen into a reverie.
“You look like the effigy of a young knight asleep on his tomb,” she said,carefully tracing the well-cut profile defined against the dark stone.
“Wish I was!”
“That’s a foolish wish, unless you have spoiled your life. You are so changed,I sometimes think—” there Amy stopped, with a half-timid, half-wistful look,more significant than her unfinished speech.
Laurie saw and understood the affectionate anxiety which she hesitated to express,and looking straight into her eyes, said, just as he used to say it to her mother, “It’s all right, ma’am.”
That satisfied her and set at rest the doubts that had begun to worry her lately.It also touched her, and she showed that it did, by the cordial tone in which she said...
“I’m glad of that!I didn’t think you’d been a very bad boy,but I fancied you might have wasted money at that wicked Baden-Baden,lost your heart to some charming Frenchwoman with a husband,or got into some of the scrapes that young men seem to consider a necessary part of a foreign tour.Don’t stay out there in the sun, come and lie on the grass here and ‘let us be friendly’,as Jo used to say when we got in the sofa corner and told secrets.”
Laurie obediently threw himself down on the turf,and began to amuse himself by sticking daisies into the ribbons of Amy’s hat, that lay there.
“I’m all ready for the secrets.” and he glanced up with a decided expression of interest in his eyes.
“I’ve none to tell. You may begin.”
“Haven’t one to bless myself with. I thought perhaps you’d had some news from home..”
“You have heard all that has come lately. Don’t you hear often?I fancied Jo would send you volumes.”
“She’s very busy. I’m roving about so, it’s impossible to be regular, you know.When do you begin your great work of art, Raphaella?” he asked, changing the subject abruptly after another pause,in which he had been wondering if Amy knew his secret and wanted to talk about it.
“Never,” she answered, with a despondent but decided air. “Rome took all the vanity out of me,for after seeing the wonders there, I felt too insignificant to live and gave up all my foolish hopes in despair. ”
“Why should you, with so much energy and talent?”
“That’s just why, because talent isn’t genius, and no amount of energy can make it so.I want to be great, or nothing. I won’t be a common-place dauber, so I don’t intend to try any more.”
“And what are you going to do with yourself now, if I may ask?”
“Polish up my other talents, and be an ornament to society, if I get the chance.”
It was a characteristic speech, and sounded daring, but audacity becomes young people,and Amy’s ambition had a good foundation. Laurie smiled,but he liked the spirit with which she took up a new purpose when a long-cherished one died, and spent no time lamenting.
“Good!And here is where Fred Vaughn comes in, I fancy.”
Amy preserved a discreet silence, but there was a conscious look in her downcast face that made Laurie sit up and say gravely,“Now I’m going to play brother, and ask questions. May I?”
“I don’t promise to answer.”
“Your face will, if your tongue won’t. You aren’t woman of the world enough yet to hide your feelings,my dear. I heard rumors about Fred and you last year,and it’s my private opinion that if he had not been called home so suddenly and detained so long, something would have come of it, hey?”
“That’s not for me to say,” was Amy’s grim reply, but her lips would smile,and there was a traitorous sparkle of the eye which betrayed that she knew her power and enjoyed the knowledge.
“You are not engaged, I hope?” and Laurie looked very elder-brotherly and grave all of a sudden.
“No.”
“But you will be, if he comes back and goes properly down on his knees, won’t you?”
“Very likely.”
“Then you are fond of old Fred?”
“I could be, if I tried.”
“But you don’t intend to try till the proper moment?Bless my soul, what unearthly prudence!He’s a good fellow, Amy, but not the man I fancied you’d like.”
“He is rich, a gentleman, and has delightful manners,” began Amy,trying to be quite cool and dignified, but feeling a little ashamed of herself,in spite of the sincerity of her intentions.
“I understand. Queens of society can’t get on without money, so you mean to make a good match, and start in that way?Quite right and proper, as the world goes,but it sounds odd from the lips of one of your mother’s girls.”
“True, nevertheless.”
A short speech, but the quiet decision with which it was uttered contrasted curiously with the young speaker.Laurie felt this instinctively and laid himself down again,with a sense of disappointment which he could not explain. His look and silence,as well as a certain inward self-disapproval, ruffled Amy,and made her resolve to deliver her lecture without delay.
“I wish you’d do me the favor to rouse yourself a little,” she said sharply.
“Do it for me, there’s a dear girl.”
“I could, if I tried.” and she looked as if she would like doing it in the most summary style.
“Try, then. I give you leave,” returned Laurie, who enjoyed having someone to tease,after his long abstinence from his favorite pastime.
“You’d be angry in five minutes.”
“I’m never angry with you. It takes two flints to make a fire. You are as cool and soft as snow.”
“You don’t know what I can do. Snow produces a glow and a tingle, if applied rightly.Your indifference is half affectation, and a good stirring up would prove it.”
“Stir away, it won’t hurt me and it may amuse you,as the big man said when his little wife beat him. Regard me in the light of a husband or a carpet,and beat till you are tired, if that sort of exercise agrees with you.”
Being decidedly nettled herself, and longing to see him shake off the apathy that so altered him,Amy sharpened both tongue and pencil, and began.
“Flo and I have got a new name for you. It’s Lazy Laurence. How do you like it?”
She thought it would annoy him, but he only folded his arms under his head, with an imperturbable, “That’s not bad. Thank you, ladies.”
“Do you want to know what I honestly think of you?”
“Pining to be told.”
“Well, I despise you.”
If she had even said ‘I hate you’ in a petulant or coquettish tone,he would have laughed and rather liked it, but the grave, almost sad,accent in her voice made him open his eyes, and ask quickly...
“Why, if you please?”
“Because, with every chance for being good, useful, and happy, you are faulty, lazy, and miserable.”
“Strong language, mademoiselle.”
“If you like it, I’ll go on.”
“Pray do, it’s quite interesting.”