‘But it is only what I might reasonably have expected,’ pursued Mrs. Turchill, ignoring the interruption. ‘It is only what I ought to have looked for. When a mother devotes herself day and night to her son; when she studies his welfare and his comfort in everything; when she sits up with him night after night with the measles—quite unnecessarily, as the doctor said at the time—and reduces herself to a shadow when he has the scarlatina; when she worries herself about him every time he gets damp feet, and endures agony every hour of the day while he is out shooting; this is pretty sore to be the result. He is caught by the first pretty face he sees, and his mother becomes a cipher in his estimation.’ ‘Believe me that is not my case, dear mother,’ protested Edgar, putting his arm round the matron’s waist, which she made as inflexible as she possibly could for the occasion, and trying to kiss her, which she would not allow. ‘You will never cease to be valued and dear. Do you suppose there is no room in my heart for you and Daphne? I know she is a mere child, a positive baby, to place at the head of a house which you have managed so cleverly all these years; but everything in this life must have a beginning, don’t you know, and I rely upon you for teaching Daphne how to manage her house.’ ‘That kind of thing cannot be taught, Edgar,’ answered his mother severely. ‘It must be the gradual growth of years in an adaptable mind. I don’t believe Daphne Lawford will ever be a housekeeper. It is not in her. You might as well expect a butterfly to sit upon its eggs with the patience of a farm-yard hen. However,’ sighed Mrs. Turchill, ‘you have chosen for yourself.’ ‘Did you suppose I should let anyone else choose for me in such a matter, mother?’ ‘I am sorry for my lovely stock of house-linen. The tea-cloths will get used in the stable; and the kitchen-cloths will be made away with by wholesale.’ ‘Never mind a few tea-cloths, mother.’ ‘But it is not a few, it is a great many. I daresay that out of the twelve dozen that are now in the linen-closet you won’t have two dozen sound ones a twelvemonth after your marriage.’ ‘I think I should survive even that loss, mother, if you were happy,’ answered Edgar lightly. ‘How could I possibly be happy knowing the waste and destruction of things that I have taken so much trouble to get together? I’m sure I feel positively ill at the idea of the best glass and china under the authority of a girl of eighteen; your great grandmother’s Crown Derby dessert-set, which I have often been told is priceless.’ ‘Yes, mother, by people who don’t want to buy it. If you wanted to sell it, you would hear a very different story. However, I don’t see any reason why Daphne should not be able to take care of the dessert-plates——’ ‘I have always kept chamois-leather over each plate,’ interrupted Mrs. Turchill, with a pensive shake of her head. ‘Will she take as much trouble?’