"Of course not," Mrs. Methuen said decidedly. "She'd wheel the darling up and down Holywell in her pram, or perhaps in South Parks Road, it's so nice and quiet."
"I hope it's not a heavy perambulator," Mr. Wycherly murmured.
"Now don't you worry. No one would dream of setting Jane-Anne to do anything hard or heavy. You wouldn't, I suppose, object to her sitting with the baby on her knee, would you? She's quite a little baby, only six months old and very small."
"No," Mr. Wycherly said doubtfully, "if you think it's quite safe for the baby."
"My dear Mr. Wycherly, Jane-Anne is nearly thirteen."
"I know," he answered humbly, "that I must appear foolishly nervous to you—but a tiny baby always seems to me so brittle, and Jane-Anne herself is—so fragile—she might drop it."
"Don't you worry," Mrs. Methuen repeated consolingly. "Mrs. Cox will take every care of Jane-Anne, and Jane-Anne will take every care of the baby. Besides, it's only once a week, on nursery cleaning day."
Then Mrs. Methuen went to see Mrs. Dew in the kitchen and unfolded the scheme to her.
Mrs. Dew, of cautious Cotswold habit, viewed the plan with marked distrust, but she was too well-trained a servant to do other than seem to acquiesce gratefully in Mrs. Methuen's kind efforts to benefit her niece. So it was settled that Jane Anne should go to Mrs. Cox on Tuesday morning at ten for a couple of hours, as Mrs. Methuen had arranged. The one person who was not consulted was Jane-Anne herself.
Term was over. The men had all gone down, and next day the Methuen household was off to the seaside.