"I heard that she was talking, through the door. What has she been talking about?"
Ruth's memory went back conscientiously, for a starting-point. "About her annuity," she said, "first. Then about the young children—little Dave and Dolly. That's mother's little Dave, only it's all so strange to think of. And then she talked about the accident."
"What about her annuity? I'm curious about that. I wonder who sends it to her?"
"She says it comes from the Office, because they know her address. She says Susan Burr took them the new address, when they left Skillick's. She says she writes her name on the back...."
"It's a cheque, I suppose?"
"Your ladyship would know. Susan Burr takes it to the Bank and brings back the money." Ruth hesitated over saying:—"I would be happier my mother should not fret so about herself ... she was for making her will, and I told her there would be time for that."
"Oh yes—plenty!" Gwen thought to herself that old Mrs. Picture's testamentary arrangements were of less importance than tranquillity, as matters stood at present. "What did she say of Dave and Dolly?"
"She was put about to think how they would be told, if she died."
"How would they be told?... I can't think." Gwen asked herself the question, and parried it.
Ruth Thrale escaped in a commonplace. The dear children would have to be told, but they would not grieve for long. Children didn't.