The Major [121]
business to Larry's care. The Mater has adopted him as well, but with reservations. Of course, what is troubling her is her dread of a Canadian invasion of her household, especially--'um um--" At this point Mr. Dean Wakeham read a portion of the letter to himself with slightly heightened colour. "'While as for Elfie, he has captured her, baggage and bones. The little monkey apparently lives only for him. While as for Larry, you would think that the office and the family were the merest side issues in comparison with the kid. All the same it is very beautiful to see them together. At times you would think they were the same age and both children. At other times she regards him with worshipful eyes and drinks in his words as if he were some superior being and she his equal in age and experience. She has taken possession of him, and never hesitates to carry him off to her own quarters, apparently to his delight. Oh, he has a way with him, that Canadian boy! The latest is that he has invited Elfie to stay a month with him in Alberta when he gets his first holiday. He has raved to her over Polly. Elfie, I believe, has accepted his invitation regardless of the wishes of either family. The poor little soul is really better, I believe, for his companionship. She is not so fretful and she actually takes her medicine without a fight and goes to bed at decent hours upon the merest hint of his Lordship's desire in the matter. In short, he has the family quite prostrate before him. I alone have been able to stand upright and maintain my own individuality.'"
"I am really awfully glad about the kid," said Dean. "After all she really has rather a hard time. She is so delicate and needs extra care and attention, and that, I am afraid, has spoiled her a bit."
"Why shouldn't the little girl spend a few weeks with us here this summer, Mr. Wakeham?" said Mrs. Gwynne. "Will you not say to your mother that we should take good care of her?"
"Oh, Mrs. Gwynne, that is awfully good of you, but I am a little afraid you would find her quite a handful. As I have said, she is a spoiled little monkey and not easy to do with. She would give you all a lot of trouble," added Dean, looking at Nora.
"Trouble? Not at all," said Nora. "She could do just as she likes here. We would give her Polly and let her roam. And on the farm she would find a number of things to interest her."
"It would be an awfully good thing for her, I know," said Dean, vainly trying to suppress the eagerness in his tone, "and if you are really sure that it would not be too much of a burden I might write."
"No burden at all, Mr. Wakeham," said Mrs. Gwynne. "If you will write and ask Mrs. Wakeham, and bring her with you when you return, we shall do what we can to make her visit a happy one, and indeed, it may do the dear child a great deal of good."
Thus it came about that the little city child, delicate, fretted, spoiled, was installed in the household at Lakeside Farm for a visit which lengthened out far beyond its original limits. The days spent upon the farm were full of bliss to her, the only drawback to the perfect happiness of the little girl being the separation from her beloved fidus Achates, with whom she maintained an epistolary activity extraordinarily intimate and vivid. Upon this correspondence the Wakeham family came chiefly to depend for enlightenment as to the young lady's activities and state of health, and it came to be recognised as part of Larry's duty throughout the summer to carry a weekly bulletin regarding Elfie's health and manners to the Lake Shore summer home, where the Wakehams sought relief from the prostrating heat of the great city. These week ends at the Lake Shore home were to Larry his sole and altogether delightful relief from the relentless drive of business that even throughout the hottest summer weather knew neither let nor pause.
It became custom that every Saturday forenoon Rowena's big car would call at the Rookery Building and carry off her father, if he chanced to be in town, and Larry to the
"I am really awfully glad about the kid," said Dean. "After all she really has rather a hard time. She is so delicate and needs extra care and attention, and that, I am afraid, has spoiled her a bit."
"Why shouldn't the little girl spend a few weeks with us here this summer, Mr. Wakeham?" said Mrs. Gwynne. "Will you not say to your mother that we should take good care of her?"
"Oh, Mrs. Gwynne, that is awfully good of you, but I am a little afraid you would find her quite a handful. As I have said, she is a spoiled little monkey and not easy to do with. She would give you all a lot of trouble," added Dean, looking at Nora.
"Trouble? Not at all," said Nora. "She could do just as she likes here. We would give her Polly and let her roam. And on the farm she would find a number of things to interest her."
"It would be an awfully good thing for her, I know," said Dean, vainly trying to suppress the eagerness in his tone, "and if you are really sure that it would not be too much of a burden I might write."
"No burden at all, Mr. Wakeham," said Mrs. Gwynne. "If you will write and ask Mrs. Wakeham, and bring her with you when you return, we shall do what we can to make her visit a happy one, and indeed, it may do the dear child a great deal of good."
Thus it came about that the little city child, delicate, fretted, spoiled, was installed in the household at Lakeside Farm for a visit which lengthened out far beyond its original limits. The days spent upon the farm were full of bliss to her, the only drawback to the perfect happiness of the little girl being the separation from her beloved fidus Achates, with whom she maintained an epistolary activity extraordinarily intimate and vivid. Upon this correspondence the Wakeham family came chiefly to depend for enlightenment as to the young lady's activities and state of health, and it came to be recognised as part of Larry's duty throughout the summer to carry a weekly bulletin regarding Elfie's health and manners to the Lake Shore summer home, where the Wakehams sought relief from the prostrating heat of the great city. These week ends at the Lake Shore home were to Larry his sole and altogether delightful relief from the relentless drive of business that even throughout the hottest summer weather knew neither let nor pause.
It became custom that every Saturday forenoon Rowena's big car would call at the Rookery Building and carry off her father, if he chanced to be in town, and Larry to the