"Well, what does it all lead to, mother?"
"It leads to this, Jim: I believe Cicely will be as happy living in the country as most girls, but at Kencote she doesn't even get the pleasures that a woman can get out of the country; those are all kept for the men. You must take her about a bit. Take her to other houses and get people to come here. Don't shut her up. Take her to London every now and then, and try and let her see some of the sort of people that go to her Uncle Herbert Birket's house. I believe she could hold her own with any of them, and you'll be proud of her. Let her stir her mind up; she doesn't know what's in it yet. Take her abroad. That always helps; even I should have liked it, only your father didn't, and I wasn't keen enough to let it make a disturbance. Give her her head; that's what it comes to. She won't lose it again."
Jim thought for a long time while Mrs. Graham went on knitting.
"A woman wants some brightness in her life, especially before the babies begin to come," she said, before he spoke.
"Thanks, mother," he said simply. "I'll think it all over."
"I have thought it over," she answered, "and it's all sound sense."
Jim's next speech was some time coming, but when it did come it was rather a startling one.
"I've given Weatherley notice to leave the Grange at Christmas."
Mrs. Graham's needles stopped, and then went on again rather more quickly. Her voice shook a little as she said in a matter-of-fact tone, "I suppose you won't mind altering the stables for me. There is only one loose-box."
"I thought it would be best to add on a couple under another roof," said Jim, and they went on to discuss other alterations that would be necessary when Mrs. Graham should leave Mountfield to go to live at the Grange, but without any approach to sentiment, and no expressions of regret on either side.