ely silly to me," Ross replied. "I don't see anything
particularly interesting or unusual about her that should make you want
to own her, or any other callow young thing her age. However, if you
say she is adorable, I suppose she is.... Merciful Heavens!!"

"Ross Worthington!"

"And I never thought of her, I'll swear, until this very moment!" he
muttered.

"Thought of who?"

"The child."

"What child? Ross, will you kindly make one remark that is
intelligible? What on earth are you talking about? Or who?"

"My child." He turned his face to hers, ruefully smiling. "Heaven knows
what you'll think of me! But.... But, Elinor, I'll swear I never
thought of her until this very moment!"

His wife very nearly went over backwards.

She had thought she was getting used to Ross, and had been sure she was
quite prepared for anything he might do or say that smacked of the
unusual, which seemed to be one of his peculiar gifts; but this far
surpassed anything yet. She had known him very well for nearly three
years and while he had once, long ago, told her of a previous marriage,
he had never mentioned the existence of a child; or intimated in any
way that there were any ties to have drawn him to America.

But that gleam of fun was not in her brown eyes for nothing, and so she
laughed. And it was such a merry peal of unrestrained mirth that Ross
rose, deeply offended.

"There is nothing at all ludicrous in this, I assure you, Elinor. It's
quite serious!"

"I am quite ready to believe it is. But, Ross, I.... Please think for
just a moment. I can't help laughing. It _is_ rather funny!"

Then he smiled himself. One of his greatest charms was the ability to
view his own performances, as it were, from a detached perspective.

"You're quite right there, I'll have to admit. To leave you in
ignorance of any family, and suddenly, after months and years of such
ignorance, produce a daughter!"

"You say a daughter? Are there," Elinor's eyes danced mischievously,
"are there any sons you have concealed at home, in case I should admire
a passing small boy? Are you going to spend the rest of your life thus
immediately granting my idle wishes?"

"No, I'm afraid I've done my very best. I'm no genie of the lamp,
although it does look a bit like it."

"Then sit down and tell me all about her," she patted his empty chair
invitingly. "Begin at the very beginning and tell me everything you can
about your daughter."

Ross obediently dr