“That’s rubbish!” said Helen inelegantly. “We might easily have had to pay much more, so, you see, you’re saving us goodness knows how much. And the peace of mind you’ll be giving us is worth thousands!”
“That may be, but we don’t charge for peace of mind,” said Jo, laughing. “It’s given in, like the coupon with the pound of tea. And it really is a ridiculous sum to pay for a little chap.”
“Father’s fixed it,” said Helen stubbornly. “You’d better talk to him—if you really feel you must. I wouldn’t advise it, because he would simply wipe the floor with you; when Father fixes a thing it usually remains so. And when you have finished arguing with Father there will be Mother to tackle. And you can argue and argue, and at the end the sum will still be £150!”
“I don’t think you’re a bit nice!” said the twins in chorus.
“I’m ever so much nicer than Father will be if you try to upset his figures.”
“But what about our father? He’ll certainly want to upset them.”
“He can’t if you’ve accepted the arrangement. It isn’t fair to Father: he has written down the Rex page of his ledger as closed, and now he’s off in full cry after income-tax arrangements or tea-plantation figures, and you want to take him from them and drag him back to considering Rex again. And he’s so busy; there’ll be nothing left of him by the time we sail. Please—please don’t worry him any more, twinses!”
She looked so appealing that the twins gave way.
“Well, I only hope Father won’t be very angry,” said Jo.
“Tell him if he tries to alter our very sensible and business-like arrangement that Father will make the £150 into £200!” said Helen, laughing. “That should reduce him to order. And when he’s had Rex for a while he’ll think that even £200 wasn’t much!”