Tea was nearly over; the cake-stand in four storeys had been depleted from attic to basement, and, after admiring the daintiness and taste displayed throughout Mrs. Henry's drawing-room, the ladies from Dawes Road had reached the most fascinating of all topics.
'When you keep several,' said Geraldine, 'they are not so hard to get. It's loneliness they object to.'
'How many shall you have, dear?' Aunt Annie asked.
'Forty,' said Henry, looking up from a paper.
'Don't be silly, dearest!' Geraldine protested. (She seemed so young and interesting and bright and precious, and so competent, as she sat there, behind the teapot, between her mature visitors in their black and their grey: this was what Henry thought.) 'No, Aunt Annie; I have four at present.'
'Four!' repeated Aunt Annie, aghast. 'But——'
'But, my dear!' exclaimed Mrs. Knight. 'Surely——'
Geraldine glanced with respectful interest at Mrs. Knight.
'Surely you'll find it a great trial to manage them all?' said Aunt Annie.
'No,' said Geraldine. 'At least, I hope not. I never allow myself to be bothered by servants. I just tell them what they are to do. If they do it, well and good. If they don't, they must leave. I give an hour a day to domestic affairs. My time is too occupied to give more.'