They were late for dinner, and Mr. Aston pretended to upbraid them and told Renata to take her soup and leave her correspondence alone, for there was a big envelope lying by her plate. It was her father-in-law’s contribution to the crêche scheme, Aymer having forestalled her request, and joined forces with his father in a really adequate sum.
Renata got pink with pleasure as she looked at the cheque. She was, however, far too shy to express her real gratitude in words before them all. She smiled at the donor and remarked she would give him a big photograph in a beautiful frame of the first baby admitted to the crêche, to hang in his room as a slight token of her appreciation of his gift.
“It shall take the place of Charlotte,” he assured her gravely.
Aymer looked aggrieved.
“May I ask the precise sum, Renata?” he inquired pointedly, “that earns so gracious a reward.”
“It’s three figures,” she answered, regarding the precious slip of paper affectionately before replacing it in its imposing envelope.
“Ninety-two pounds, fifteen and sixpence more,” he groaned; “it’s a lot for a photograph of a mere baby, but I can’t be left out in the cold.”
“Perhaps I can let you have one without a frame for less, only father’s must be the best.”
“Nevil,” remarked Aymer severely, “I would call your attention to the fact that your wife is beginning to weigh men’s merits by their means.”