"Well, of course, if you must...." John murmured, despondently. And it was very little consolation to think, while Viola practised the _fandango_ in the library preparatory to dislocating the household by removing Maud from her work to escort her to the dancing-class, that Beatrice herself would have liked to stay. "However," John sternly resolved, "the next time that James tries to scoff at married life I shall tell him pretty plainly what I think of his affectation." He decided ultimately to keep the children at Church Row for a week, to give them some kind of treat on Saturday, and on Saturday evening, before dinner, to take them back to their father and insist upon his being responsible for them. If by chance George proved to be really ill, which he did not suppose for a moment that he would, he should take matters firmly into his hands and export the children to Ambles until their mother came home: Viola could practise every known variety of Spanish dance over Laurence's head, or even in Laurence's room; and as for Bertram he could corrupt Harold to his heart's content. On the whole, the week passed off well. Although Viola had fallen like Lucifer from being an angel in Maud's mind, she won back her esteem by behaving like a human little girl when they went to the dancing-class together and did not try to assume diabolic attributes in exchange for the angelic position she had forfeited. John was allowed to gather that Viola's chief claim to Maud's forgiveness was founded upon her encouragement of the advances made to her escort by a handsome young sergeant of the Line whom they had encountered in the tube. "Miss Viola behaved herself like a little lady," Maud had informed John when they came home. "You enjoyed taking her?" "Yes, indeed, sir, it's a pleasure to go about with anyone so lady-like. Several very nice people turned round to admire her." "Did they, Maud, did they?" Later, when Viola's account of the afternoon reached him he wondered if the sergeant was one of those nice people. Mrs. Worfolk, too, was reconciled to Bertram by the profound respect he accorded to her tales and by his appreciation of an album of family photographs she brought out for him from the bottom of her trunk. "The boy can be as quiet as a mouse," she assured John, "as long as he isn't encouraged to make a hullabaloo." "You think I encourage him, Mrs. Worfolk?"