The Professors House
“Oh, they have a right here, by long tenure. It’s
their room, too. I don’t want to come upon them
lying in some dump-heap on the road to the lake.
They remind me of the times when you were little
girls, and your first party frocks used to hang on
them at night, when I worked.”
Rosamond smiled, unconvinced. “Papa, don’t joke with me. I’ve come to talk about something serious, and it’s very difficult. You know I’m a little afraid of you.” She dropped her shadowy, bewitching eyes.
“Afraid of me? Never!”
“Oh, yes, I am when you’re sarcastic. You musn’t be to-day, please. Louie and I have often talked this over. We feel strongly about it. He’s often been on the point of blurting out with it, but I’ve curbed him. You don’t always approve of Louie and me. Of course it was only Louie’s energy and technical knowledge that ever made Tom’s discovery succeed commercially, but we don’t feel that we ought to have all the returns from it. We think you ought to let us settle an income on you, so that you could give up your university work and devote all your time to writing and research. That is what Tom would have wanted.”
St. Peter rose quickly, with the light, supple spring he had when he was very nervous, crossed to the window, wide on its hook, and half closed it. “My
—60—
