“But then, I suppose the others could depose him if he wasn’t hereditary,” said Teresa.
“No, ‘Gawd save the Prince o’ Wales, bless ’is dear ’eart!’ is Mrs. Potter’s motto. ‘That there Fisk is never going to come it over our Albert, you’ll find, Miss,’ is what she would say. Ask her the next time you see her.”
“Mr. Jorkins doesn’t agree with that,” Teresa pursued. “When he is out of work the first thing he blames is Parliament. He’s dead against it.”
“Well, there will always be two opinions about everything in a country,” said Emma. “You had much better leave them all alone to mess about and let us get on with what we are doing. At present Mr. Fisk is rather like the mouse that dipped its tail in the beer and sucked it. He is looking for the cat, that’s all.”
“Are you sure?” her friend asked anxiously.
“I am only sure after a party like the Prices’ last night,” Emma answered. “It will wear off to-morrow, and I shall get cross with Father for talking Conservative intellectualism. I can’t see any use in the Prices to-day. They give money when there is a list of donations, and Papa Price just hugs himself when someone comes round for a subscription. He keeps them waiting in his office, and then when he has succeeded in beating them down to less than they asked for and yet finds he is still in the top batch of subscriptions he does think he has been clever. And Mrs. Price and the family! I would really enjoy seeing the girls working in the fur trade instead of wearing coats of it, and I wouldn’t wish that to many people. I would like to see them stop cackling and find out how witty they would be on two pennyworth of refuse. Then the next day, perhaps, I meet Lady Varens, whom I don’t grudge anything to, because she keeps a lot of people happily employed and really cares for them and buys beautiful things with her money. And after that the Starks turn up—you know—the schoolmistress at St. Angelus’ school—you met her at the Dispensary. Mrs. Potter’s life is a screaming farce compared to hers, and the Jorkinses are wallowing in wealth, for at least they enjoy themselves at the pictures and the pub when so disposed.”
“Well, let us add it up,” said Teresa. “Under Mr. Fisk’s scheme, Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Stark will benefit; Mrs. Price will be altogether wrecked and mangled—she and her family; Lady Varens will live as she would probably be quite content to live now—she never seems to want much—and she would upset the apple carts of a lot of happy dependants. But then there are lots of Potters, lots of Starks, comparatively few Prices, a good many Varenses and not a great many happy dependants, so how does the proportion of benefits work out? I shall have to ask David to unravel it.”
“I beg your pardon—David?” asked Emma.
“David Varens,” said Teresa. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I only wondered for a moment. Do you go much by what he says?”