This point of view had very naturally failed to present itself to Jean and Jo. It had not occurred to them that any one could possibly feel aggrieved at their going. Being only human, they found it cheering.
“But we don’t want to go a bit——” they began.
“Oh, you think you don’t. But wait until you’ve been home a few months, running things, and see how you’d feel at the idea of coming back—back to being put in your place by Smithy, and asked at short notice for the subjunctive of a hideous irregular French verb, or made to walk in a crocodile every day! Catch either of you giving up your independence, once you’ve got it!”
“But we shan’t be independent—you seem to forget there’s Mother.”
“No—but I know you two!” said Ellen darkly. “I’ve been vice-captain for a year, and I pity your hapless parents!”
“Yes, poor things!” Nita agreed. “Of course, they won’t be hapless for ever—the drought will break, and stock will go up with a rush, and they’ll become horribly rich——”
“This isn’t a story,” said Jo, regarding her sternly. “It’s real life.”
“Well, that’s what I’m talking about,” said Nita, much injured. “This is the way it happens in the best circles. I wish you wouldn’t interrupt me just as I get thrilling. Where was I?—oh, yes, horribly rich, and then they’ll send the twinses to France and Switzerland, to finish off, and they’ll be touring the world when they ought to be thinking of Junior Public Exams. Their characters will be ruined, of course, but they’ll have a gorgeous time!”
“Yes,” said Grace. “Then they’ll come home and find me painting for a crust, in a torn overall, and they’ll charitably give me three-and-elevenpence for my landscapes——”
“And sell them at a jumble sale!” put in Nita cruelly.