"Is that usual?" he inquired.

"Very usual indeed," I replied.

"I mean--under the circumstances?"

"Under what circumstances?" I demanded boldly. I knew that nothing would
induce him to specify them.

"Oh, I only meant--it wasn't exactly my idea."

"What was your idea--exactly?" It was mean of me to put poppa to the
blush, but I had to define the situation.

"Oh," said he, with unlooked-for heroism, "I was basing my calculations
with reference to you on the distractions of change--Paris dry-goods,
rowing round Venice in gondolas, riding through the St. Gothard tunnel,
and the healing hand of time. I don't intend to give a day less than six
weeks to it. I'm looking forward to the tranquilising effect of the
antique some myself," he added, hedging. "I find these new self-risers
that we've undertaken to carry almost more than my temperament can
stand. They went up from an output of five hundred dollars to six
hundred and fifty thousand, and back again inside seven days last month.
I'm looking forward to examining something that hasn't moved for a
couple of thousand years with considerable pleasure."

"Poppa," said I, ignoring the self-risers, "if you were as particular
about the quality of your fiction as you are about the quality of your
table-butter, you would know that the best heroines never have recourse