“Did Mrs. Jasher tell you this?” he inquired, smiling complacently.
“Not in so many words. Still, I am a woman, and can guess how much another woman leaves unsaid.” Lucy paused, then added significantly: “I do not think that she is so very old, and you must admit that she is wonderfully well preserved.”
“Like a mummy,” remarked the Professor absently; then pushed back his chair to add briskly: “What does all this mean, you minx? I know that the woman is all right so far as a woman can be: but her confounded age and her looks and her unexpressed admiration. What are these to an old man like myself?”
“Father,” said Lucy earnestly, “when I marry Archie I shall, in all probability, leave Gartley for London.”
“I know—I know. Bless me, child, do you think that I have not thought of that? If you were only wise, which you are not, you would marry Random and remain at the Fort.”
“Sir Frank has other fish to fry, father. And even if I did remain at the Fort as his wife, I still could not look after you.”
“Humph! I am beginning to see what you are driving at. But I can't forget your mother, my dear. She was a good wife to me.”
“Still,” said Lucy coaxingly, and becoming more and more the champion of Mrs. Jasher, “you cannot manage this large house by yourself. I do not like to leave you in the hands of servants when I marry. Mrs. Jasher is very domesticated and—”
“And would make a good housekeeper. No, no, I don't want to give you another mother, child.”
“There is no danger of that, even if I did not marry,” rejoined Lucy stiffly. “A girl can have only one mother.”