"Well, if I really am," said Vicky hopefully, "it quite solves the problem, because then I wouldn't be able to manage Alan at all."
She drifted away, leaving Ermyntrude torn between diversion and doubt. Mary remarked soothingly that she thought there was no immediate need to worry over such a volatile damsel: "In fact, if I were you, I'd let her go on the stage, Aunt Ermy," she said. "I believe that's what she'd really like best."
"Don't you suggest such a thing!" said Ermyntrude, quite horrified. "Why, her father would turn in his grave - well, as a matter of fact, he was cremated, but what I mean is, if he hadn't been he would have."
"But why should he? You were on the stage, after all'
"Yes, my dear, and you take it from me that my girl's not going to be. Not but what she's a proper little actress, bless her!"
"Well, anyway, don't worry about Alan!" begged Mary. "I'm perfectly certain there's nothing in that!"
"I hope you're right, for I don'tt mind telling you nothing would make me consent. Nothing! As though I hadn't got enough to put up with without that being added!"
It transpired that Ermyntrude had more to put up with that morning than she had anticipated. Having noticed on the previous day that a button was missing from the sleeve of the coat Wally had been wearing, she went to his dressing-room to find the coat, and took it down to the morning-room for repair, and discovered, pushed carelessly into one of its pockets, a letter addressed to Wally in an illiterate and unknown hand. Ermyntrude, who had no scruples about inspecting her husband's correspondence, drew the letter from its envelope, remarking idly that it was just like Wally to stuff letters into his pocket and forget all about them.
Mary, to whom this observation was addressed, made a vague sound of agreement, and went on adding up the Household Expenses. Her attention was jerked away from such mundane matters by a sudden exclamation from Ermyntrude.
"Mary! Oh, my goodness! Oh, I never did in all my life!"