"Well," said Mrs. Douglas, when the guest had at last departed, "it's a blessing there is a moon—and that he knows the hill road well. It will take him all his time to be at Birkshaw in time for dinner."
"You shouldn't have made yourself so agreeable, Mother. He couldn't bear to leave your interesting conversation."
"As to that," said Mrs. Douglas, "it does one good to see a man sometimes and hear a man's talk."
"Mother," laughed Ann, "you dearly love a man, and you have all the Victorian woman's reliance on a man's opinion. You love doing things for their benefit; you positively pander to them."
Mrs. Douglas refused to be abashed by this accusation.
"Well, why not? I think men are the lords of creation, and I do like them to have the best of everything. I like the old-fashioned way of doing everything for one's men-folk—seeing that their bags are properly packed and their clothes kept in perfect order. I can't bear the modern way of letting a man look after himself; it is so nice to feel that one's men are dependent on one for their comfort."
Ann groaned and, sitting down on the rug pulled the Tatler into her lap.
"Cat, d'you hear that? Lords of creation, indeed! Those are your sentiments, too, aren't they?"
The Tatler blinked sleepily, and stuck his claws into Ann's arm.
Ann pushed him away and got up. "Ah yes, Mother, I know you of old. I didn't mind running errands for Father when he came in tired, but I did resent being told: 'Run and pack Mark's bag.' 'Get Robbie a clean handkerchief——' That was 'fair ridiculous!''