The parlour-maid and the waitress who always came in for the evening when the Lambes entertained, never made mistakes.
Mrs. Lambe was very “good” with servants, and never had any difficulty in finding and keeping thoroughly satisfactory domestics. The little girls’ nurse, who received far higher wages than any of them except the cook, was the only one with whom there was sometimes a little trouble.
She occasionally hinted that Ena and Evelyn were rather spoiled, and inclined to come up to the nursery disposed to be fretful and out of sorts after too much notice in the drawing-room, and far too many expensive chocolates from the pink and blue and gilt boxes that were always being given to them.
Mr. Lambe was a lavish and indulgent father. He thought his fair-haired, pretty little daughters wonderful, and took the greatest delight in associating “Dad’s” return from the office with new toys or “surprises” of sweetmeats.
Mrs. Lambe never had the heart to disappoint him by suggesting that his munificence was making the little girls rather critical and capricious, even at six and four years old. Edgar only roared with appreciative laughter when they told him, seriously and rather crossly, that they always wanted the chocolates to come from Blakiston’s—which was the best, and by far the most expensive, confectioner’s in the city. They did not care for any other kind.
Edgar repeated this story to a great many of his friends, who were as much amused as he was himself at such an instance of early discrimination.
Mrs. Lambe was amused herself, and could not help thinking that Ena and Evelyn were smart and original children.
They were also very pretty; rather pallid, sharp-featured little things, always beautifully dressed, exactly alike. Neither she nor Edgar regretted in the very least that neither of them had been a boy.
Every night Maude Lambe, who had been brought up to be thoroughly religious, knelt at the side of her enormous bed, with its opulent pink satin duvet, and humbly thanked God for all that He had given her—Edgar and the children, and Edgar’s wealth and kindness, and her beautiful, comfortable home.
There was only one fly in the ointment—Aunt Tessie.