“I doubt such things would hardly be in Mrs Snow’s way. Mrs Grove could hardly make a lion of our Janet, I fancy, Graeme.”
“I fancy not,” said Graeme, quietly.
“Oh! I assure you, I shall be willing to take any trouble. I truly appreciate humble worth. We so seldom find among the lower classes anything like the faithfulness, and the gratitude manifested by this person to your family. You must tell me all about her some day, Rose.”
Rose was regarding her with eyes out of which all indignation had passed, to make room for astonishment. Mrs Grove went on.
“Didn’t she leave her husband, or something, to come with you? Certainly a lifetime of such devotion should be rewarded—”
“By a pic-nic,” said Rose, as Mrs Grove hesitated.
“Rose, don’t be satirical,” said Arthur, trying not to laugh.
“I am sure you must be delighted, Fanny—Arthur’s old nurse you know. It need not prevent you going to the seaside, however. It is not you she comes to see.”
“I am not so sure of that,” said Arthur, smiling across the table to his pretty wife. “I fancy Fanny has as much to do with the visit as any of us. She will have to be on her good behaviour, and to look her prettiest, I can assure her.”
“And Janet was not Arthur’s nurse,” said Rose. “Graeme was baby when she came first.”