necessary, already?"

"Yes, father.... But I am Lydia. Don't you remember? I am your little
girl, grown up."

"Yes, yes, of course. You are like your mother-- And you are having
the house painted? Who's doing the job?"

She told him the man's name and he laughed rather immoderately.

"He'll do you on the white lead, if you don't watch him," he said. "I
know Asa Todd. Talk about frauds-- You must be sure he puts honest
linseed oil in the paint. He won't, unless you watch him."

"I'll see to it, father."

"But whatever you do, don't let 'em into my room," he went on, after
a frowning pause.

"You mean your library, father? I'm having the ceiling whitened.
It--it needed it."

"I mean my bedroom, child. I won't have workmen pottering about in
there."

"But you won't mind if they paint the woodwork, father? It--has grown
quite yellow in places."

"Nonsense, my dear! Why, I had all the paint upstairs gone over--let
me see--"