Bransby gave a short grunt. “Surely, Mrs. Hilary,” he said irritably, “you’re not serious.”
“I am always serious,” she told him emphatically. “I love being serious.”
Bransby picked up the paper-weight and shook it irritably, god, lotus and all. “But you can’t believe in such rubbish.”
Helen caught his hand warningly. “Daddy! you’ll break poor old Joss!” For a moment his hand and her young hand closed together over the costly toy, and then she made him put it down, prying under his heavy fingers with her soft ones.
“Of course, I believe in it,” Angela said superiorly. “Why, there have been quite a number of books written about it lately.”
“Foolish books,” snapped Bransby.
Mrs. Hilary answered him most impressively. “There are more what-you-may-call-’ems in Heaven and Earth, Horatio——” she said earnestly.
Bransby interrupted her, absently in his irritation taking up “Joss” again. “But, my dear lady——”
“Even men of science believe.” Angela Hilary could interrupt as well as the next.
“Now-a-days men of science believe anything—even such stuff as this.” Again Helen gently rescued the bit of jade.