“Well, I didn't mean it quite like that,” she admitted. “And of course you'll bring Mrs Rumbold too.”
“Darling,” said Mrs Matthews reproachfully, “that goes without saying, as Mr Rumbold knows.”
Whether Mr Rumbold knew it or not, he did not bring his wife to tea at the Poplars, but explained to Stella, who met him half-way down the drive, that she had another engagement.
“I don't blame her,” said Stella candidly. “Ours is a Godforsaken household. And to make things worse we've been fending off reporters all day. They've been simply clustering about the place, and of course Mother let herself be interviewed, so God knows what we shall see in the papers tomorrow.”
“Nonsense, you're letting yourself feel all this too much, Stella.”
“I can't help it,” she replied, falling into step beside him. “It has absolutely got me down. Oh well, you pretty well know, don't you? It isn't only uncle's death: it's Aunt Harriet as well. I don't hold any brief for Mummy —”
“Then you should,” interposed Rumbold.
“Well, I know perfectly well she can be most frightfully annoying,” said Stella defensively. “But actually what I was going to say when you most rudely interrupted me was that though I don't hold any brief for Mummy I do think Aunt Harriet is treating her awfully badly. She does every blessed thing she can think of to put a spoke in Mummy's wheel, and if Mummy so much as moves a table half an inch out of its usual place she kicks up a row, and says she ought to have been consulted.”
Edward Rumbold was silent for a moment, but he said presently: “I shouldn't let that worry me too much, if I were you. Both your mother and your aunt are very much on edge, and—well, they are both of them disappointed at not being left in sole possession of the house, aren't they?”
The twinkle in his eyes was reflected in Stella's. “I should think they jolly well are!” she said.