said Fulbert. âI am leaving burdens upon you.â
âI need not become a baby again to comfort Mother,â said Graham.
âIt does not seem to have that result,â said Fulbert. âWell, do any of you give a thought to my exile?â
âMany thoughts, Father,â said Luce, âbut we are not to help it. We are sad to our hearts, but we do not feel guilty.â
âThat must be wonderful,â said Graham.
âWe ought to feel grateful,â said Eleanor.
âThat involves guilt,â said Daniel. âIt seems grasping to have so much done for you.â
âI suppose that is what it is about gratitude,â mused Luce. âI have wondered what it is, that takes from it what it ought to have.â
âI should always be glad of a chance of feeling it,â said Fulbert.
âThat is a sign of a generous nature,â said Regan, who was direct in tribute to her family.
âFather does not say he has had the chance,â said Daniel.
âHe is a proud man,â said Graham.
âDo you wish you were old enough to help your father, Daniel?â said Sir Jesse.
âI should like to be considered to be so, if it would mean my going with him.â
âWhat is your reason for desiring it?â
âIt would make a change,â said Daniel, keeping his face grave.
âThat shows you are not old enough,â said his mother at once.
âThat is not your fatherâs reason for leaving us.â
âNo, but it will be one of the results.â
Regan gave a laugh and Eleanor looked at her.
âYou are too kind to them, Lady Sullivan. Their life in this house will hardly prepare them for the world outside.â
âI never feel that that sphere is as bad as it is painted,â said Daniel.
âYou can talk of it when you are qualified,â said Sir Jesse.
âGrandpa does not set us the example,â murmured Graham.
âYour experience of it at Cambridge has not taken you far,â said Eleanor.
âNo, Mother dear, but farther than you titiink,â said Luce. âCambridge would be a miniature world.â
âI am to have a good, long glimpse of a far corner of the real one,â said Fulbert.
âI shall have to be father as well as mother here,â said Eleanor.
âThere goes the attention from Father again,â said Daniel, while Graham gave a glance at Fulbert.
âHatton will be both to the little ones,â said Luce.
âDonât you know more about it than that?â said her mother. âBut that is how it would be, I suppose. The nurse who does it fora living is the one preferred. Mothers must learn that they come second.â
âMy dear, do not talk without sense,â said Fulbert. âYou do not make the affairs of childhood your province. You cannot shine in a sphere where you have not chosen to function.â
âDo you want a nurse for your children, or a mother?â
âI want both, and my children have them. And I hope they also have a father. But we must not claim other peopleâs credit.â
âI suppose I may have my own. I can expect a little recognition in the family that takes my life.â
Regan looked on without a change of expression, as though having no feeling that would cause one. She had neither pity nor blame for a woman who gave way under the demand of her family. She had never done so herself, but to her the family was the only thing that did not produce such a result.
âWe know what you give us, my dear,â said Sir Jesse to Eleanor. âYou do not think we do not?â
âIf feelings are always covered we may not remember them.â
âThey are no less safe like that, Mother,â said Luce.
âI know they are there, my dear. I ought not to need to be reminded.â
âFather,â said Luce, turning her eyes on Fulbertâs face, âwhat did you mean by saying that Mother did not make the