"Of course," said Mr. Seton placidly.
Elizabeth pushed away her cup.
"Father, I don't mind being noble, but I must say I do hate to have my nobility taken for granted."
"My dear girl! Nobility——"
"Well," said Elizabeth, "isn't it pretty noble to give up Switzerland and go on plodding here? Just look at the rain, and I must go away down to the district and collect for Women's Foreign Missions. There are more amusing pastimes than toiling up flights of stairs and wresting shillings for the heathen from people who can't afford to give. I can hardly bear to take it."
"My dear, would you deny them the privilege?"
It might almost be said that Elizabeth snorted.
"Privilege! Oh, well... If anyone else had said that, but you're a saint, Father, and I believe you honestly think it is a privilege to give. You must, for if it weren't for me I doubt if you would leave yourself anything to live on, but—oh! it's no use arguing. Where are you visiting this afternoon?"
"I really ought to go to Dennistoun to see that poor body, Mrs. Morrison."
"It's such a long way in the rain. Couldn't you wait for a better day?"