THE IVORY TOWER
"But I don't care." And then he went on: "I guess I'd be more tired in your position."
"Oh you know I'm never tired. And now," said Rosanna, "I'm too interested."
"Well then, so am I. Only for me it ain't a position."
His daughter still hovered with her vague look about. "Well, if it's one for me I feel it's a good one. I mean it's the right one."
Mr. Gaw shook his little foot with renewed intensity, but his irony was not gay. "The right one isn't always a good one. But ain't the question what his is going to be?"
"Mr. Fielder's? Why, of course," said Rosanna quietly. "That's the whole interest."
"Well then you've got to fix it."
"I consider that I have fixed it—I mean if we can hold out."
"Well"—and Mr. Gaw shook on—"I guess I can. It's pleasant here," he went on, "even if it is funny."
"Funny?" his daughter echoed—yet inattentively, for she had become aware of another person, a middle-aged woman, but with neatly-kept hair already grizzled and in a white dress covered with a large white apron, who stood at the nearest opening of the house. "Here we are, you see, Miss Mumby—but any news?" Miss Gaw was instantly eager.
"Why he's right there upstairs," smiled the
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