"Lady," replied Mr. Prohack, "then I will never give you a pearl necklace."
After a long meditative pause which her husband did not interrupt, she murmured: "So I suppose we shall be what you call rich?"
"Some people will undoubtedly call us rich. Others won't."
"You know we shan't be any happier," she warned him.
"No," Mr. Prohack agreed. "It's a great trial, besides being a great bore. But we must stick it."
"_I_ shan't be any different. So you mustn't expect it."
"I wonder what the children will say. Now, Arthur, don't go and tell them at dinner while the maid's there. I think I'll fetch them up now."
"You'll do nothing of the kind," said Mr. Prohack sharply.
"Because I can't stand the strain of telling them to-night. Ha-ha!" He laughed. "I intend to think things over and tell them to-morrow. I've had quite enough strain for one day."
"Strain. These extremes of heat and cold would try a stronger man than me."
"Well, just think how cold it was this morning and how warm it is to-night."
"You quaint boy!" she murmured, admiring him. "I quite understand. Quite. How sensitive you are! But then you always were. Now listen here. Shall _I_ tell the children?" She gave him a long kiss.
"No," said he, making prods at her cheek with his finger, and smiling vaguely. "No. You'll do nothing of the kind. But there's something you _can_ do for me."
"If you aren't going to play a trick on me."
"First, you must have one of your best headaches. Second, you must go to bed at once. Third, you must sprinkle some eau-de-cologne on the bed, to deceive the lower orders. Fourth, you must be content with some soup for your dinner, and I'll smuggle you up some dessert in my pocket if you're hungry. Fifth, you must send word to those children of yours that you don't wish to be disturbed."
"And supposing I do! For once, can't you be a baby to oblige me?"
"But it's too ridiculous! Why do you want me to go to bed?"
"You know why. Still, I'll tell you. You always like to be told what you know,--for instance, that I'm in love with you. I can't tell those kids to-night, and I'm not going to. The rumpus, the conflict of ideas, the atmospheric disturbance when they do get to know will be terrific, and I simply won't have it to-night. I must have a quiet evening to think in or else I shan't sleep. On the other hand, do you suppose I could sit through dinner opposite you, and you knowing all about it and me knowing all about it, and both of us pretending that there was nothing unusual in the air? It's impossible. Either you'd give the show away, or I should. Or I should burst out laughing. No! I can manage the situation alone, but I can't manage it if you're there. Hence, lady, you will keep your kind promise and hop into bed."