“Am I to go alone, John?”
“No, my dear, you will go with Mr. Lightwood.”
“Don’t you think it’s time we went down to Mr. Lightwood, John dear?” Bella insinuated.
“My darling, it’s almost time you went, but I must ask you to excuse me to him altogether.”
“You never mean, John dear, that you are not going to see him? Why, he knows you have come home. I told him so.”
“That’s a little unfortunate, but it can’t be helped. Unfortunate or fortunate, I positively cannot see him, my love.”
Bella cast about in her mind what could be his reason for this unaccountable behaviour; as she sat on his knee looking at him in astonishment and pouting a little. A weak reason presented itself.
“John dear, you never can be jealous of Mr. Lightwood?”
“Why, my precious child,” returned her husband, laughing outright: “how could I be jealous of him? Why should I be jealous of him?”
“Because, you know, John,” pursued Bella, pouting a little more, “though he did rather admire me once, it was not my fault.”
“It was your fault that I admired you,” returned her husband, with a look of pride in her, “and why not your fault that he admired you? But, I jealous on that account? Why, I must go distracted for life, if I turned jealous of everyone who used to find my wife beautiful and winning!”
“I am half angry with you, John dear,” said Bella, laughing a little, “and half pleased with you; because you are such a stupid old fellow, and