“It’s awfully pretty. I’ve never seen one quite like it before. It’s worth ten pounds any day.”
Miss Lucian laughed.
“We should put a much higher value than that upon it, I’m afraid.”
“People always do, but you wouldn’t get more than ten from a dealer,” said Rose simply. “My uncle that I used to live with is Alfred Smith the pawnbroker, so I know. Why, I daresay I could price everything in the room for you.”
Miss Lucian appeared to be more diverted than gratified by her guest’s surprising faculty, but the doctor laughed outright.
“Have you offered to do that at Squires?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “They wouldn’t say thank you. Besides, the stuff there isn’t the sort you ever get hold of. I shouldn’t know about any of it, much, except perhaps the china. The bits on the mantelpiece in the hall are good—famille verte.” Her accent was atrocious.
“Lady Aviolet’s particularly fond of them, I believe.”
“Yes. She dusts them herself, and the servants aren’t supposed to touch them. One day I offered to do them for her, but she wouldn’t let me. I only did it to see what she’d say.”
Rose laughed rather drearily, as though the exercise of experimenting with her mother-in-law’s susceptibilities were lacking in charm.