“I? Bring up the children! And such terrible children! Why, Petra, the last time I was here I went home utterly exhausted from the strain of having them come pelting into the room every few minutes, as dirty as two little pigs, and howling! That little Robin is positively disgusting when he eats chocolate and smears it all over himself and the chairs. He actually wanted to get onto my lap! At least his nurse suggested that he do so, and eat his chocolate dog on my lap! Fancy it! And that little Karen is unspeakable! She climbed up on the lattice outside the back terrace and swung there before the window until I thought I should lose my senses! No, Petra, you’ll have to leave me out of any plans like that. I haven’t the strength to stand it. I’ve just come from my doctor’s, and he thinks I should have a long sea voyage and a little time of resting abroad in some resort where I can have baths and treatments. Of course, I could take Jennifer with me for a few months perhaps. She is old enough to look after herself, I should think, although I’m afraid I should lose my mind; she is so peculiar and unexpected in her reactions. I just couldn’t stand it to have to watch out for her on shipboard. One has to be so careful about whom a young girl meets, you know. At that age! There are so many ineligibles around, too, especially when a girl might be thought to have money.”

“I don’t think you need worry very much about Jennifer,” said Aunt Majesta dryly. “I think she’s pretty well provided for, isn’t she, Petra? I’ve seen her going about a great deal with that Peter Willis, and he’s enormously rich. I imagine she’ll be marrying him before long, and then she’ll be off our hands!”

“Jennifer is a little young to married off yet, isn’t she? Do you all realize she isn’t of age?”

They all looked up startled, and there in the doorway stood Uncle Blakefield, gray haired, somewhat bald, kindly faced, but grim just now.

“Oh, is that you, Blakefield?” said Aunt Petra. “I didn’t hear you come in. I don’t suppose you realize that Jennifer wouldn’t be counted young to be married in these days. But do come in and sit down and let’s get to work. Why doesn’t that lawyer come?”

“By the way,” said Agatha Lane, in a clear voice that dominated the room at once, “I wonder if you all realize that there’s a perfectly good way to settle these matters without the least bit of trouble to any of us. Why don’t we just put Cousin Abigail Storm in here and let her run the house and take care of them all, at least until Jennifer marries? That will kill two birds with one stone. Cousin Abigail is in abject despair. She’s lost every atom of her money and she can’t find a job anywhere, she’s too old. I had a most forlorn letter from her this morning, and I felt that it just came in the nick of time. Here we’ll have Abigail on our hands if we don’t do something about it pretty soon, and it strikes me that this will be a perfectly lovely arrangement.”

“Well, I think it would be perfectly ruinous,” said Petra, with scornful eyes. “It might be a lovely arrangement for you, Agatha, saving you from any responsibility at all, but it would be disastrous for the family! Simply disastrous! Those children need to be dealt with strenuously, and they mustn’t be allowed to stay together! No one woman could deal with them adequately if they were left in a bunch. Those children have been allowed to run wild, and we’ve got to separate them or we’ll have a set of criminals on our hands before long. I tell you they have got to be separated! You can’t ever do a thing with them if they are left together, for they will protect each other. Haven’t I seen them? They are little devils. I know what I’m talking about—”

“They ought not to be separated!” declared Uncle Blakefield’s quiet, stubborn voice.

“Well really, Blakefield, what have you to say about it?” demanded Aunt Majesta grandly.

And then the fight was on.

Blakefield stood his ground amazingly, unaccustomedly, saying little except when the others seemed to consider that their arguments were about to prevail, and then he would utter a single sentence, cryptically, which would startle them into a momentary silence.

“Well, I think it’s ideal, having Cousin Abigail come and keep them together just as their uncle Blake says,” stated Agatha Lane happily in one of the brief intervals of silence. “That would take care of Abigail so beautifully and give Blake his way. We could allow Abigail a reasonable salary and a certain sum for running the house. Then let her train the children to help. That would save money for them when they get older.”

Agatha Lane just loved to get up plans and elaborate them in finished little sentences.

“You will never put that selfish, hard-eyed, unloving woman over those dear children with my consent!” said Uncle Blake.

“Well, it isn’t in the least likely that your consent will be necessary, Blake,” said Aunt Petra dryly. “It would naturally be the women of the family, especially the women belonging to the mother of the children, who would arrange those matters.”

“That remains to be seen,” said Uncle Blake quietly and said no more, sitting down in a far corner in front of the great bookcase that lined the wall from floor to ceiling and from window to window.