But papa told him she must be more than that, because she
had a child that would be fifteen years old; only it died. How old
would sister Emily be if she was alive, mamma? La, mamma, how pretty
you are: you have got red cheeks like Lucy--redder, oh, ever so much
redder--and in general they are so pale before dinner. Let me kiss
you, mamma. I do love the ladies when their cheeks are red."
"There! there! now go on, dear; tell me some more."
"It is very interesting, isn't it, dear mamma?"
"It is amusing, at all events."
"No, it is not amusing--at least, what came after, isn't: it is
wicked, it is unjust, it is abominable."
"Tell me, dear."
"It turned out it wasn't the naughty lady Mr. Dodd was in love for,
and who do you think he is in love of?"
"I have not an idea."
"MY LUCY!!!"
"Nonsense, child."
"No, no, mamma, it is not. He owned it plump."
"Are you quite sure, love?"
"Upon my honor."
"What did they say next?"
"Oh, next papa began to talk his fine words that I don't know what the
meaning of them is one bit. But Mr. Dodd, he could make them out, I
suppose, for he said, 'So, then, the upshot is--' There, now, what is
upshot? I don't know. How stupid grown-up people are; they keep using
words that one doesn't know the meaning of."
"Never mind, love! tell me. What came _after_ upshot?" said Mrs.
Bazalgette, soothingly, with great apparent calmness and flashing eye.
"How kind you are to-day, mamma! That is twice you have called me
love, and three times dear; only think.
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