“Yes, yes! But that is loose rice. The package is cleaner.”
“Then don’t I wash the package rice, ma’am?” persisted Lena.
“Why, of course, you do—you wash everything,” answered Mrs. Larry, a bit irritably, as she drove a veil pin home. Whereupon Lena, the tactless, pursuing her own line of reasoning, remarked with a mere suggestion of triumph:
“If I gotta wash it anyhow, what’s the difference whether it’s clean or dirty to start with?”
Mr. Larry suddenly ducked out into the hall. The telephone bell rang sharply, and Mrs. Larry reached for her gloves:
“There are the girls now. One more kiss, dears, and then mumsie is off.”
The babies watched her going with mute disapproval. Lena was all right in her way, especially during the daily outing, but mumsie was a most wonderful person and greatly to be missed. But then, when one is properly trained, one does not cry; so Mrs. Larry made her departure without the accompaniment of childish wails. Nevertheless, the lines in her brow had deepened, and as Mr. Larry started to open the door for her, she laid a hand on his coat sleeve.
“Larry, dear, these investigations of the high cost of living are getting on my nerves. I’m leaving the babies too much with Lena, and I haven’t saved a penny yet!”
“The way of the investigator is hard, eh?” murmured Mr. Larry, as he bent for a farewell kiss. “But think what you will save when you have found out the right way! Anyhow, I believe it is good for you to go about a bit. You were sticking too close to the house before you started to look for short cuts in economy. Here you are—out of the house and away at eight o’clock.”
Claire, Teresa Moore and Mrs. Norton were waiting in the reception hall.