When you find it she is worried because it is the opposite end of the house to the dining-room. You point out to her the advantage of being away from the smell of the cooking. At that she gets personal: tells you that you are the first to grumble when the dinner is cold; and in her madness accuses the whole male *** of being impractical.
The mere sight of an empty house makes a woman fretful.
Of course the stove is wrong. The kitchen stove always is wrong.
You promise she shall have a new one. Six months later she will want the old one back again: but it would be cruel to tell her this. The promise of that new stove comforts her. The woman never loses hope that one day it will come--the all-satisfying kitchen stove, the stove of her girlish dreams.
The question of the stove settled, you imagine you have silenced all opposition. At once she begins to talk about things that nobody but a woman or a sanitary inspector can talk about without blushing.
It calls for tact, getting a woman into a new house. She is nervous, suspicious.
"I am glad, my dear ****," I answered; "that you have mentioned cupboards. It is with cupboards that I am hoping to lure your mother. The cupboards, from her point of view, will be the one bright spot; there are fourteen of them. I am trusting to cupboards to tide me over many things. I shall want you to come with me, ****.
Whenever your mother begins a sentence with: 'But now to be practical, dear,' I want you to murmur something about cupboards--not irritatingly as if it had been prearranged: have a little gumption."
"Will there be room for a tennis court?" demanded ****.
"An excellent tennis court already exists," I informed him. "I have also purchased the adjoining paddock. We shall be able to keep our own cow. Maybe we'll breed horses."
"We might have a croquet lawn," suggested Robin.
"We might easily have a croquet lawn," I agreed. "On a full-sized lawn I believe Veronica might be taught to play. There are natures that demand space. On a full-sized lawn, protected by a stout iron border, less time might be wasted exploring the surrounding scenery for Veronica's lost ball."
"No chance of a golf links anywhere in the neighbourhood?" feared ****.
"I am not so sure," I answered. "Barely a mile away there is a pretty piece of gorse land that appears to be no good to anyone. I daresay for a reasonable offer--"
"I say, when will this show be ready?" interrupted ****.
"I propose beginning the alterations at once," I explained. "By luck there happens to be a gamekeeper's cottage vacant and within distance. The agent is going to get me the use of it for a year--a primitive little place, but charmingly situate on the edge of a wood.
I shall furnish a couple of rooms; and for part of every week I shall make a point of being down there, superintending. I have always been considered good at superintending. My poor father used to say it was the only work I seemed to take an interest in. By being on the spot to hurry everybody on I hope to have the 'show,' as you term it, ready by the spring."
"I shall never marry," said Robin.
"Don't be so easily discouraged," advised ****; "you are still young."
"I don't ever want to get married," continued Robin. "I should only quarrel with my husband, if I did. And **** will never do anything--not with his head."
"Forgive me if I am dull," I pleaded, "but what is the connection between this house, your quarrels with your husband if you ever get one, and ****'s head?"
By way of explanation, Robin sprang to the ground, and before he could stop her had flung her arms around ****'s neck.
"We can't help it, **** dear," she told him. "Clever parents always have duffing children. But we'll be of some use in the world after all, you and I."
The idea was that ****, when he had finished failing in examinations, should go out to Canada and start a farm, taking Robin with him.