Elisabeth's eyes danced with joy. "I'll go the first thing to-morrow morning, and read him my favourite chapter out of The Fairchild Family; and then I'll teach him some nice games to play all by himself."
"That's a dear young lady!" exclaimed Mrs. Bateson, in an ecstasy of admiration.
"Do you think Jemima will cry when I go?"
"No, lovey; she wouldn't so far forget herself as to bother the gentry with her troubles, surely."
"But I shouldn't be bothered; I should be too sorry for her. I always am frightfully interested in people who are unhappy—much more interested than in people who are happy; and I always love everybody when I've seen them cry. It is so easy to be happy, and so dull. But why doesn't Jemima fall in love if she wants to?"
"There now!" cried Mrs. Bateson, in a sort of stage aside to an imaginary audience. "What a clever child she is! I'm sure I don't know, dearie."
"It is a pity that she hasn't got a Cousin Anne," said Elisabeth, her voice trembling with sympathy. "When you've got a Cousin Anne, it makes everything so lovely."
"And so it does, dearie—so it does," agreed Mrs. Bateson, who did not in the least understand what Elisabeth meant.
On the way home, after the tea-party was over, Christopher remarked:
"Old Mother Bateson isn't a bad sort; but I can't stand Mother Hankey."