“Perhaps,” put in Mrs. Ingham-Baker nervously, “the brains have all gone to the other brother, Henry. It is sometimes so with twins.”
Mrs. Harrington laughed rather derisively.
“Stupid woman to have twins,” she muttered.
This was apparently one of several grievances against the late Mrs. FitzHenry.
“They have a little money of their own, have they not?” inquired Mrs. Ingham-Baker, with the soft blandness of one for whom money has absolutely no attraction.
“About enough to pay their washerwoman.”
There was a pause, and then Mrs. Ingham-Baker heaved a little sigh.
“I am sure, dear,” she said, “that in some way you will be rewarded for your great kindness to these poor orphan boys.”
She shook her head wisely, as if reflecting over the numerous cases of rewarded virtue which had come under her notice, and the action made two jet ornaments in her cap wobble, in a ludicrous manner, from side to side.
“That may be,” admitted the lady of the house, “though I wish I felt as sure about it as you do.”