“Stuff for marking the tennis-court? Of course you can, old chap. Come along and we’ll find it—if Mrs. Aviolet will excuse us? But I daresay you’d like a talk with my wife.”
Mrs. Lambert nodded. “Please do let’s, Mrs. Aviolet. I find it’s such a help with the boys if I can say that I know their mummies a little bit. And from the other point of view, too, of course it helps one to understand a boy if one has a talk with the parents.”
“May I come and see the tennis-court?” said Miss Lucian, and she rose and went out with Mr. Lambert and his son.
Mrs. Lambert sat silent for a moment, looking expectantly at Rose.
At last she said gently: “If you do settle to trust us with your boy, I do want you to feel happy about him. I’ll write to you myself every few days, just at first, and tell you how he’s settling down. It’s wonderful how quickly they get accustomed to it all. Is Cecil fond of games?”
“Yes, but he’s not good at them, yet.”
“That’s sure to come later. He’s an only child, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“So’s mine. I do feel it’s a drawback to them, poor darlings, but at least it’s better for a boy than for a girl. They do get to school.”
Rose, preoccupied with a newly born impulse, according to her usual policy, made no effort to disguise her wandering attention.