He did not for a moment dream of relieving her altogether of her housework. In the first place he could not afford to do so; in the second place he thought it very good for her to be busy most of the day, and to feel that she was independent, earning her own living. He did not even bid her give up her post of housekeeper to Mr. Gedge-Tomkins. He was quite sure that a girl might have too little work to do, but he was very doubtful whether she could have too much.
Then he was talking one afternoon to Pollyooly, who had just made his tea and brought it to him; and she said:
"Who is Mr. Francis?"
"Mr. Francis who?" said the Honourable John Ruffin.
"I don't know," said Pollyooly, knitting her brow. "It was Mrs. Brown who talked about him. I took the Lump to see her the day after we came back from Pyechurch; and she said I was growing quite the lady."
"She would put it like that," said the Honourable John Ruffin sadly.
"And then she said that after all it wasn't to be wondered at, seeing who Mr. Francis was. But when I asked her what she meant, she wouldn't say any more."
The Honourable John Ruffin sat straighter up in his chair with a somewhat startled air. But he said in an indifferent enough tone:
"Ah, she grew mysterious, did she?"
"Ever so mysterious," said Pollyooly.