“Besides, what difference would my coming here make? I shall never understand anything about business,” she declared.
Mr. Tredegar pondered, and once more removed his cigar. “The necessity has never arisen. But now that you find yourself in almost sole control of a large property”
Mr. Langhope laughed gently. “Apply yourself, Bessy. Bring your masterly intellect to bear on the industrial problem.”
Mrs. Ansell restored the innumerable implements to her writing-case, and laid her arm with a caressing gesture on Mrs. Westmore’s shoulder. “Don’t tease her. She’s tired, and she misses the baby.”
“I shall get a telegram tomorrow morning,” exclaimed the young mother, brightening.
“Of course you will. ‘Cicely has just eaten two boiled eggs and a bowl of porridge, and is bearing up wonderfully.’”
She drew Mrs. Westmore persuasively to her feet, but the widow refused to relinquish her hold on her grievance.
“You all think I’m extravagant and careless about money,” she broke out, addressing the room in general from the shelter of Mrs. Ansell’s embrace; “but I know one thing: If I had my way I should begin
to economize by selling this horrible house, instead
[ 36 ]
