There, reader! I have got a bit of a moral in about it before you knew what
I was doing. But I was sorry my wife could see it only through my eyes and
words. Then I told her about Miss Bowdler, and what she had said. Ethel
was very angry at her impertinence in speaking so to me. That was a wife's
feeling, you know, and perhaps excusable in the first impression of the
thing.
"She seems to think," she said, "that she was sent into the world to keep
other people right instead of herself. I am very glad you set her down, as
the maids say."
"O, I don't think there's much harm in her," I returned, which was easy
generosity, seeing my wife was taking my part. "Indeed, I am not sure that
we are not both considerably indebted to her; for it was after I met her
that a thought came into my head as to how we ought to do with Theodora."
"Still troubling yourself about that, husband?"
"The longer the difficulty lasts, the more necessary is it that it should
be met," I answered. "Our measures must begin sometime, and when, who can
tell? We ought to have them in our heads, or they will never begin at all."
"Well, I confess they are rather of a general nature at present--belonging
to humanity rather than the individual, as you would say--consisting
chiefly in washing, dressing, feeding, and apostrophe, varied with
lullabying.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108