Mrs. Lester smiled up at her husband.
"You must decide," she said. "I'm just like an absolutely contented and placid old cow at the moment——"
"I never saw you look less like anything," he said. "Go on, however."
"But I am, John. I have everything I want in the world; you aren't in England, and Dick isn't drowned, and nothing can possibly matter. Whereever we may be doesn't seem to signify in the least. Would you like to go?"
"Yes; I think so," he said. "They're nice people, and it would be good experience for the boy. You'd like it, Dick?"
"I think it would be ripping, father," said Dick eagerly. "After all, once we get back to Victoria we'll be a long time there, won't we?"
"That's a highly philosophic remark," said his father, laughing. "All right, old son; we'll go."
CHAPTER VIII.
THE JOURNEY NORTH.
After all, they did not go north with the Warners. Mrs. Lester's housewifely soul realised that am woman who had been away for six weeks from a home principally staffed with black servants would prefer to be without guests for at least a few days after her return, and accordingly it was arranged that they should follow Mr. Warner's party within the week.