"No, child. You don't understand anything about the subject. Shubrick does. I like to discuss things with him; he's got a clear head of his own; he's a capital talker. When is he going?"
"Going where, father?"
"Going away. He can't stay here for ever, reading politics and putting my room in order. How long is he going to stay?"
"I do not know."
"Well—when he goes I shall go! I shall not be able to hold out here. I shall go back to London. I can't live where there is not a man to speak to some time in the twenty-four hours. Besides, I can do nothing here. I might as well be a cabbage, and a cabbage without a head to it."
"Are we cabbages?" asked Dolly at this. "Mother and I?"
"Cabbage roses, my dear; cabbage roses. Nothing worse than that."
"But even cabbage roses, father, want somebody to take care of them."
"I'll take care of you. But I can do it best in London."
"Then you do not want me to read to you father?" Dolly said after a pause.