“Mamma,” he was beginning, but Blanche stepped in to the rescue.
“Stasy,” she said, though she could scarcely help laughing, “how can you tease him so?”
For it was one of Stasy’s peculiarities that, in a certain depressed mood of her very April-like temperament, the only relief to her feelings was teasing Herty. The usual invigoration seemed to have followed the present performance; her colour had returned, and her eyes were sparkling.
“Blanchie, Blanchie,” said Herty, wavering for moment in his intention, “is it true? Will poor mamma have to pay a great lot of money if I eat much bread-and-butter?”
“No, no; of course not. Can’t you see when Stasy’s teasing you, you silly boy?” said Blanche caressingly. “Why, you are eight years old now! You should laugh at her. Mamma has plenty of money to pay for everything we need, though of course you mustn’t be greedy.”
“But hotels are dear,” persisted Stasy calmly.
“Well, we are not going to live at a hotel for ever,” said Blanche.
“Nor for very long, I hope,” added her mother. “I do look forward to being settled. Though, if the weather were pretty good, it would be nice to be in London for a little. We must get to know some of the shops, for living in the country makes one rather dependent upon writing to London for things.”
Blanche was silent for a few moments. Then she looked up suddenly.
“Have you no friends to go to see here, mamma? Is there nobody who can give us a little advice how to set about our house-hunting?”