"London's a fine place," said Edward Henry.

"I know," said Robert negligently.

"What's the population of London?"

"I don't know," said Robert with curtness, though he added after a pause: "But I can spell population--p-o-p-u-l-a-t-i-o-n."

"_I'll_ come to London, Father, if you'll have me," said Ralph, grinning good-naturedly.

"Will you!" said his father.

"Fahver," asked Maisie, wriggling, "have you brought me a doll?"

"I'm afraid I haven't."

"Mother said p'r'aps you would."

It was true, there had been talk of a doll; he had forgotten it.

"I tell you what I'll do," said Edward Henry, "I'll take you to London, and you can choose a doll in London. You never saw such dolls as there are in London--talking dolls that shut and open their eyes and say Papa and Mamma, and all their clothes take off and on."

"Do they say 'Father?'" growled Robert.

"No, they don't," said Edward Henry.

"Why don't they?" growled Robert.

"When will you take me?" Maisie almost squealed.

"To-morrow."

"Certain sure, Father?"

"Yes."

"You promise, Father?"

"Of course I promise."

Robert at length stood up to judge for himself this strange and agitating caprice of his father's for taking Maisie to London. He saw that, despite spellings, it would never do to let Maisie alone go. He was about to put his father through a cross-examination, but Edward Henry dropped Ralph, who had been climbing up him as up a telegraph-pole, on to the bed and went over to the window, nervously, and tapped thereon.

Carlo followed him, wagging an untidy tail.

"h.e.l.lo, Trent!" murmured Edward Henry, stooping and patting the dog.

Ralph exploded into loud laughter.

"Father's called Carlo 'Trent,'" he roared. "Father, have you forgotten his name's Carlo?" It was one of the greatest jokes that Ralph had heard for a long time.

Then Nellie hurried into the room, and Edward Henry, with a "Mustn't be late for tea," as hurriedly left it.

Three minutes later, while he was bent over the lavatory basin, someone burst into the bathroom. He lifted a soapy face.

It was Nellie, with disturbed features.

"What's this about your positively promising to take Maisie to London to-morrow to choose a doll?"

"I'll take 'em all," he replied with absurd levity. "And you too!"

"But really--" she pouted, indicating that he must not carry the ridiculous too far.

"Look here, d--n it," he said impulsively, "I _want_ you to come. And I want you to come to-morrow. I knew it was the confounded infants you wouldn't leave. You don't mean to tell me you can't arrange it--a woman like you!"

She hesitated.

"And what am I to do with three children in a London hotel?"

"Take Nurse, naturally."

"Take Nurse?" she cried.

He imitated her with a grotesque exaggeration, yelling loudly, "Take Nurse?" Then he planted a soap-sud on her fresh cheek.

She wiped it off carefully and smacked his arm. The next moment she was gone, having left the door open.

"He _wants_ me to go to London to-morrow," he could hear her saying to his mother on the landing.

"Confound it!" he thought. "Didn't she know that at dinner-time?"

"Bless us!" His mother's voice.

"And take the children--and Nurse!" his wife continued in a tone to convey the fact that she was just as much disturbed as her mother-in-law could possibly be by the eccentricities of the male.

"He's his father all over, that lad is!" said his mother strangely.

And Edward Henry was impressed by these words, for not once in seven years did his mother mention his father.

Tea was an exciting meal.

"You'd better come too, Mother," said Edward Henry audaciously. "We'll shut the house up."

"I come to no London," said she.

"Well, then, you can use the motor as much as you like while we're away."

"I go about gallivanting in no motor," said his mother. "It'll take me all my time to get this house straight against you come back."

"I haven't a _thing_ to go in!" said Nellie with a martyr's sigh.