“Why, she’s a baby,” cried I. For I didn’t like to see that my baby was growing up. “She’s nearly fourteen,” said Edna. She was looking at herself again. “Would you ever think _I_ had a daughter fourteen years old?” said she, making a laughing, saucy face at me. I got up and kissed her. “You don’t look as old as you did when I married you,” said I, and it was only a slight exaggeration. When we sat again, she was snuggled into my lap with her head against my shoulder. She was immensely fond of being petted. They say this is no sign of a loving nature, that cats, the least loving of all pets, are fondest of petting. I have no opinion on the subject. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” said I. “Money?” “No, indeed,” laughed she. “I supposed so, as that’s the only matter in which I have any influence in this family.” “Come to think of it,” said she, “it _is_ money--in a way. It’s about--our parents.” She gave a deep sigh. “Godfrey, they hang over me like a nightmare!” Her tragic seriousness amused me. “Oh, cheer up,” said I, kissing her. “They certainly don’t fit in with our stylishness. But they’re away off there in Passaic, and bother us as little as we bother them. The truth is, Edna, we’ve not acted right. We’ve been selfish--spending all our prosperity on ourselves. Of course, they’ve got everything they really want, but--well----” “That’s exactly it,” said she eagerly. “My conscience has been hurting me. We ought to--to-- It wouldn’t cost much to make them perfectly comfortable--so they’d not have to work--and could get away from the grocery--and the--and the”--she hesitated before saying “father’s business,” as if nerving herself to pronounce words of shame. And when she did finally force out the evading “father’s business,” it was with such an accent that I couldn’t help laughing outright. “Undertaking’s a good-paying business,” said I. “We certainly ought to be grateful to it. It supplied the eight thousand dollars that gave me the chance to buy half the rolling mill. And you know the rolling mill was the start of our fortune.” “Do you think father could be induced to retire?” she asked. “Never,” said I. “Your father’s a rich man, for Passaic. He’s got two hundred thousand at least hived away in tenements that pay from twenty to thirty-five per cent. And his business now brings in ten to fifteen thousand a year straight along.” “You can make _your_ father retire?” I laughed. “Poor dad! I’ve been keeping him from being retired by the sheriff. He’s squeezing out a bare living. He’d be delighted to stop and have all his time for talking politics and religion.” “You could buy them a nice place a little way out in the country, on some quiet road. I’m sure your mother and your old maid sister would love it.” “Perhaps,” said I. “If it wasn’t _too_ quiet.” “But it must be quiet. And we’ll induce my father and mother to buy a place near by.” “Your father’ll not give up the business.”