But, as if she answered my thought, Evey went on: “Mother can’t bear to think of Lancey going; nor Joss either, and I suppose he’ll have to go, too. We have an uncle there who is a tea-planter; they’re going to him. Joss would give anything not to—he wants to go to college, but of course it’s impossible, so we never speak about it.”
“And doesn’t Lancey mind?” I said.
“Not so much, except just for leaving us. But it’s no good thinking of things long before they come. We’ve settled that we’re going to be as happy as anything at the Yew Trees for two years at least. Oh, how nice it is, and how kind your father has been about putting it in order. We’ve never had a house at all like it before; our house at Southsea was so—just like other houses you know.”
I felt more on my own ground, now.
“I am so pleased you like the Yew Trees,” I said, amiably. “It is a nice old house, and it might be made quite perfect. If we ever went to live in it ourselves, I daresay we should change it a good deal—but I don’t think we ever shall. When papa retires, and I hope he will before I’m grown up, mamma and I want to travel a good deal, and perhaps to live in London. One gets tired of a little country-place.”
Yvonne looked at me quite simply.
“Do you think so?” she said. “I feel as if we should never get tired of Elmwood. And the people all seem so kind. London seems so very big, but then, of course, I haven’t been very much there.”
My conscience pricked me.
“Well, I haven’t, either,” I said; “but still—” I had really only been there once, and for one week!
“We always stay with mother’s godmother for a month every summer in London, Mary and I, and mother comes for the last fortnight. Mother’s godmother is very kind, and we have very good music lessons—she gives us them—she is Lady Honor’s sister. But we are always so glad to come home again.”