Mr. Pepper looked up sharply, and was about to put a question when Willoughby continued:
“They’ve an awful time of it—those captains! Three thousand souls on board!”
“Yes, indeed,” said Clarissa. She turned to Helen with an air of profundity. “I’m convinced people are wrong when they say it’s work that wears one; it’s responsibility. That’s why one pays one’s cook more than one’s housemaid, I suppose.”
“According to that, one ought to pay one’s nurse double; but one doesn’t,” said Helen.
“No; but think what a joy to have to do with babies, instead of saucepans!” said Mrs. Dalloway, looking with more interest at Helen, a probable mother.
“I’d much rather be a cook than a nurse,” said Helen. “Nothing would induce me to take charge of children.”
“Mothers always exaggerate,” said Ridley. “A well-bred child is no responsibility. I’ve travelled all over Europe with mine. You just wrap ’em up warm and put ’em in the rack.”
Helen laughed at that. Mrs. Dalloway exclaimed, looking at Ridley:
“How like a father! My husband’s just the same. And then one talks of the equality of the sexes!”
“Does one?” said Mr. Pepper.