“Certainly they are,” replied Polly; “at least they are all the same as each other, but they are never the same as themselves for long. But all the people, men, cooks, etc., whom we have to handle can be depended on to a certainty. That is why I suggest that any shifting which has to be done shall be done by ourselves if we want to be comfortable.”
“You are not a suffragette, are you?” the bride asked in alarm. “Paul can’t bear them.”
“Oh dear no,” said Polly airily. “If my dear Sisters in the Cook became a governing body they would be lost to me, because they would become part of the solid mass of things which you and I have to handle and walk round. It’s no good mixing or changing governing bodies. They’ll go on governing away just the same, and as fast as they do away with one thing another will crop up. Some one has to stay outside and see to things. Have some more tea?”
“And what about all the evil in the world?” demanded the round-eyed bride, “Paul says——”
“My husband takes a very peculiar view,” interrupted Mrs. Henry, who had not had her fair share by any means; we all felt that and made way. “He says that the evil arises—it is really very naughty of him—from our first parents having been driven out of Eden before they had had time to get enough apples. That if we were to know good and evil anyhow, we ought to know enough about it. I think he means that we are all being as clever as we are able, but that there is not enough intelligence in the world to cope with the demand: so he just does the best he can. But he talks a great deal of nonsense, of course, and doesn’t mean half he says.”
“I wish that Paul had a profession that would make him work at home,” the bride said presently. “If he were a clergyman, now, or an artist, just think how nice it would be!”
“My dear, you don’t know what you are saying,” Mrs. Henry assured her. “My husband works at home, and there are times when I would pay anyone any sum to take him away, and let him join the Morris Dancers, or anything that would take him into the open air.”
“Really!” said the bride. “But can’t you take him out yourself if he needs exercise?”
Mrs. Henry snorted. “It is not that I care whether he needs exercise or not,” she said, “but I should be thankful to have the house to myself sometimes. If I so much as start the sewing-machine in the room over his head, he comes out like an animal from its den, and says he can’t think of a word with that noise going on. Or if Bella is turning out the room either above or below him, he complains that she is throwing rocks about, and he can’t keep his papers on the table. If we clean the passage outside his room, and the carpet-sweeper happens to touch his door once, he flies out in a rage; and I can’t talk to anyone in the drawing-room without his hearing. Then either he wants his meals taken to the study, or else he comes down and won’t let the children speak; and he slops the gravy all about, and wants the meal hurried through so that he can begin to smoke—and I do draw the line at smoking at meals, don’t you, Mrs.—er—?”
