aggravatingness, but she was downright wicked. So I led her a life," she concluded, looking as triumphantly happy as a child who plays truant on a glorious day with a pocketful of pennies and burnt almonds.
Frank shook his head sadly.
"Why won't you be good, Fenella?" he said. "You could be so easily."
"I always am," said Fenella promptly, and nodded her curly head close to his nose." I take sulphur baths, and regularly sneeze sulphur. I get up every morning at half-past seven. Just think of that! It's a fearful scramble, because Ronny never will wake up. He sleeps just like you, for ever and ever." She stopped, and colored vividly, then dashed on again breathlessly, "And of course it takes some time to dress him."
"You have no nurse, no maid!" he exclaimed, in amazement.
"No," she replied with great sangfroid, "I like a free hand, and no woman can have that, with a female detective tripping up her heels, and wearing her silk stockings. And I love to wait on Ronny—to wash and dress him, and make him look sweet. Of course," she added anxiously, "he isn't always clean—the dirtier a boy is, the nicer he is—but he is perfectly happy! You should see us run down the hill to the Pump-room, though everyone has done long before we get there! And then we eat such a breakfast.
