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I am perfectly
satisfied with him."
"Pass the preserves, Lou," said Annie in a warning tone. She had
reasons for not wishing her husband to cross Alexandra too openly.
"But don't you sort of hate to have people see him around here,
Alexandra?" she went on with persuasive smoothness. "He IS a
disgraceful object, and you're fixed up so nice now. It sort of
makes people distant with you, when they never know when they'll
hear him scratching about. My girls are afraid as death of him,
aren't you, Milly, dear?"
Milly was fifteen, fat and jolly and pompadoured, with a creamy
complexion, square white teeth, and a short upper lip. She
looked like her grandmother Bergson, and had her comfortable and
comfort-loving nature. She grinned at her aunt, with whom she was
a great deal more at ease than she was with her mother. Alexandra
winked a reply.
"Milly needn't be afraid of Ivar. She's an especial favorite of
his. In my opinion Ivar has just as much right to his own way of
dressing and thinking as we have. But I'll see that he doesn't
bother other people.


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