says, 'What are you doing that for?' And grandmamma says--this is
the dreadful thing that I want you to explain; oh, I can remember
it all; it's like learning lessons, only much nicer--grandmamma
says, 'Before the day's over, the name on your boxes will be your
name no longer.'"

Mr. Sarrazin now became aware of the labyrinth into which his
young friend had innocently led him. The Divorce, and the wife's
inevitable return (when the husband was no longer the husband) to
her maiden name--these were the subjects on which Kitty's desire
for enlightenment applied to the wisest person within her reach,
her mother's legal adviser.

Mr. Sarrazin tried to put her off his knee. She held him round
the neck. He thought of the railway as a promising excuse, and
told her he must go back to London. She held him a little
tighter. "I really can't wait, my dear;" he got up as he said it.
Kitty hung on to him with her legs as well as her arms, and
finding the position uncomfortable, lost her temper. "Mamma's
going to have a new name," she shouted, as if the lawyer had
suddenly become deaf. "Grandmamma says she must be Mrs. Norman.
And I must be Miss Norman. I won't! Where's papa? I want to write
to him; I know he won't allow it. Do you hear? Where's papa?"

She fastened her little hands on Mr. Sarrazin's coat collar and
tried to shake him, in a fury of resolution to know what it all
meant. At that critical moment Mrs. Presty opened the door, and
stood petrified on the threshold.

"Hanging on to Mr. Sarrazin with her arms _and_ her legs!"