"
"How are you on discipline?"
"I don't know."
"You have had no experience? Never tried your hand at training a boy,
for example?"
Claire's blue-gray eyes grew suddenly audacious, and the bridge of her
short nose wrinkled up delightfully in a roguish smile.
"I trained my father. He was a dear old boy--the dearest in the world.
He used to say he had never been brought up, until I came along. He used
to say I ruled him with a rod of iron. But he was very well-behaved
before I got through with him. He was quite a model boy, really."
Glancing quickly up into the steadfast eyes that had, at first, seemed
to her so stern as to be almost forbidding, she met an expression so
mild, so full of winning kindness, that she suddenly remembered and
understood what Martha had meant when she said once: "A body wouldn't
call the queen her cousin when he looks at you like that!"
"Your father was a credit to your bringing-up, certainly. I never had
the honor of meeting Judge Lang, but I knew him by reputation. I
remember to have heard some one say of him once--'He was a judge after
Socrates' own heart.
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