lovely potted plant.

At a time when private schools were beginning to flourish once more he
had been careful to educate Adelaide entirely at home with governesses.
Every summer he took her abroad, and showed her, and talked with her
about, books, pictures, and buildings; he inoculated her with such
fundamentals as that a lady never wears imitation lace on her
underclothes, and the past of the verb to "eat" is pronounced to rhyme
with "bet." She spoke French and German fluently, and could read Italian.
He considered her a perfectly educated woman. She knew nothing of
business, political economy, politics, or science. He himself had never
been deeply interested in American politics, though very familiar with
the lives of English statesmen. He was a great reader of memoirs and of
the novels of Disraeli and Trollope. Of late he had taken to motoring.

He kissed his daughter and nodded--a real New York nod--to his
son-in-law.

"I've come to tell you, Adelaide," he began.

"Such a thing!" murmured Mathilde, shaking her golden head above the cup
of tea she was making for him, making in just the way he liked; for she
was a little person who remembered people's tastes.

"I thought you'd rather hear it than read it in the papers."

"Goodness, Papa, you talk as if you had been getting married!"

"No." Mr. Lanley hesitated, and looked up at her brightly. "No; but I
think I did have a proposal the other day."