There are gentlemen, too. I suppose one of them will be Mother's lover
by and by; but of course I don't know which one yet. I'm awfully
interested in them, though. And of course it's perfectly natural that
I should be. Wouldn't _you_ be interested in the man that was going to
be your new father? Well, I just guess you would! Anybody would. Why,
most folks have only one father, you know, and they have to take that
one just as he is; and it's all a matter of chance whether they get
one that's cross or pleasant; or homely or fine and grand-looking; or
the common kind you can hug and kiss and hang round his neck, or the
stand-off-don't-touch-me-I-mustn't-be-disturbed kind like mine. I mean
the one I _did_ have. But, there! that doesn't sound right, either;
for of course he's still my father just the same, only--well, he isn't
Mother's husband any more, so I suppose he's only my father by order
of the court, same as I'm his daughter.

Well, anyhow, he's the father I've grown up with, and of course I'm
used to him now. And it's an altogether different matter to think of
having a brand-new father thrust upon you, all ready-made, as you
might say, and of course I _am_ interested. There's such a whole lot
depends on the father. Why, only think how different things would have
been at home if _my_ father had been different! There were such a lot
of things I had to be careful not to do--and just as many I had to be
careful _to_ do--on account of Father.

And so now, when I see all these nice young gentlemen (only they
aren't all young; some of them are quite old) coming to the house and
talking to Mother, and hanging over the back of her chair, and handing
her tea and little cakes, I can't help wondering which, if any, is
going to be her lover and my new father. And I am also wondering what
I'll have to do on account of him when I get him, if I get him.

There are quite a lot of them, and they're all different. They'd make
very different kinds of fathers, I'm sure, and I'm afraid I wouldn't
like some of them. But, after all, it's Mother that ought to settle
which to have--not me. _She's_ the one to be pleased. 'T would be such
a pity to have to change again. Though she could, of course, same as
she did Father, I suppose.

As I said, they're all different. There are only two that are anywhere
near alike, and they aren't quite the same, for one's a lawyer and the
other's in a bank. But they both carry canes and wear tall silk ha