"He has always been nasty with me. That is nothing new," said Camilla, quickly.
Mrs. Horace Lancing looked at her in a sly kind of way.
"Well, of course, it is none of my business, but I do think you are foolish not to try and make friends with him. Have you ever thought what would happen if he were to stop your allowance? I have heard him threaten this more than once. And then he complains bitterly that you never take the children to see him. It would help things a lot for you if you were to do this now and then. He is an old man, you know, and old people like to be remembered sometimes."
Camilla's eyes were bright.
"I am sorry, but the suburbs make me ill. If Colonel Lancing wants to see the children he must come here...."
There was almost a frightened expression for an instant on the other woman's face; evidently "grandpa" was no joking matter to her.
"Well, you can't say I haven't warned you," she said, and then she laughed. "The suburbs have their uses all the same sometimes, haven't they?" she observed. "Let me see. I think I left my umbrella downstairs."
Camilla accompanied her departing guest to the door.
"Are you sure you won't have a cab; it is getting late, you know."
There was a package lying on the hall table beside Mrs. Lancing's umbrella.