"Don't let us talk of economy yet," she said. "Let us enjoy, anyhow for a time, being able to give something to one's neighbours."
"And pray who is going to do the cooking?"
"Emma. In her last place she had to cook for clerical lunches and knows just what is necessary. And," she added laughing, "I mean to give them a good lunch."
"What do you mean by a good lunch?"
Mrs. Greville sarcastically. "Do you intend to give them chickens? They are nine shillings each at Trowsby."
"No I don't mean to give chickens. They are probably tired of them in the country. But they shall have a good lunch, I am determined about that, for Luke's sake."
"My dear you are talking like a very silly woman;" said Mrs. Greville gravely.
"Am I? I am sorry, but for once in my life I mean to be silly. So you must forgive me," said Rachel.
Mrs. Greville said no more, but came to the conclusion that Rachel was a little light-headed, particularly as the conversation had set her laughing weakly. She supposed her presence was too exciting for her, so in a few minutes she picked up her work and made for the house, and before long Rachel caught sight of her making her way towards the gate with a note book and pencil in hand.
"She is going to look after the babies," sighed Rachel. "I hope she won't make those poor mothers too miserable by her comments." Then her mind reverted to one of Mrs. Greville's remarks.