'It was only decided last night,' replied Dick.
The spell was now broken, and when they reached home and had dinner the conversation was resumed in a strain that might be considered as being almost jovial after the mournful tones of the last few days. Dick felt as if a big weight had been lifted from his mind, and the thought again occurred to him that there was no use in making such a fuss over a baby that was only three weeks old. Kate, too, seemed to be awakening to the conviction that there was no use in grieving for ever. The state of torpor she had been living in—for to stifle remorse she had been drinking heavily on the quiet—now began to wear off, and her brain to uncloud itself; and Dick, surprised at the transformation, could not help exclaiming:
'That's right, Kate; cheer up, old girl. A baby three weeks old isn't the same as a grown person.'
'I know it isn't, but if you only knew—I'm afraid I neglected the poor little thing.'
'Nonsense!' replied Dick, for having an eye constantly on the main chance, he wished to avoid any fresh outburst of grief. 'You looked after it very well indeed; besides, you'll have another,' he added with a smile.
'I want no other,' replied Kate, vexed at being misunderstood, and yet afraid to explain herself more thoroughly.
At last Dick said:
'I wish there was a part for you in the new piece.'
'Yes, so do I. I haven't been doing anything for a long while now.'
And thus encouraged he told her that in the so-and-so company the part of the Countess might be had for the asking.