“Yes she mentioned it,” answered North curtly.
Mrs. North made an exaggerated gesture of despair as she struggled with a cigarette. She had never succeeded in mastering the art of smoking.
“Are you going to tell us what we want to know or not?” she asked, with ominous calmness. “Do you advise calling on the woman, or don’t you?”
Here Violet Riversley broke in.
“When will you learn to put things quite plainly to father?” she asked. “You know he can’t understand our euphuisms. I suppose it’s one of the defects of a scientific brain.”
She helped herself to a cigarette and held it out to North for a light.
“What we want to know, father, is just this. Do you think Miss Seer is likely to subscribe to the Hunt and various other things we are interested in? If to this she adds the desire to entertain us, so much the better, but the subscriptions are the primary things.”
“No, no, my dear!” exclaimed Mr. Fothersley, deeply pained. “That is just what I complain about in you young people of the present day. You have not the social sense—you——”
“Dear Arthur,” Violet cut him short ruthlessly, “don’t be a humbug with me. Your Violet has known you since she was two years old. Let us in our family circle be honest. Lord Mentmore and the Condors called on the Pithey people because Mr. Pithey has subscribed liberally to the Hunt, and you and mother have called because they did. Incidentally they will probably give us excellent dinners. All I can say is, I hope you will draw the line at the German Jews, however much money they have.”
“Well, Roger,” said Mrs. North, who had kept her eyes fixed on her husband during her daughter’s diversion, “shall I call or not? Surely you are the proper person to advise me, as you have met Miss Seer.”