“Harry wouldn’t know—he knows nothing about gardening,” said the Doña scornfully.
“Not know? Why, he’ll know _all_ about it. That fellow Worthington—you know who I mean, the chap that went on that commission to India—well, he’s a knowledgeable sort of chap, and he asked me the other day at the Club if Dr. Sinclair of Cambridge wasn’t a son-in-law of mine, and he said that he’d been making the most wonderful discoveries lately.”
“What’s the use of discoveries—of Harry’s, at any rate? They do no one any good,” said the Doña sullenly.
“Oh, I don’t know; there’s no knowing what these things mayn’t lead to—they may teach us to improve the human stock and all sorts of things”; and then Dick applied himself to the more interesting subject of his fried sole, oblivious, in spite of years of experience, that his remark had horrified his wife by its impious heresy.
However, her only comment was an ironical smile.
“To learn to know people through flowers—what a lovely idea,” mused Jollypot, who was too absent-minded to be tactful. “I think it is his work among flowers that makes Dr. Sinclair so—so——”
“So like a flower himself, eh?” grinned Dick, with a sudden vision of his large, massive, overbearing son-in-law.
“I’m sure flowers really irritate Harry horribly,” said Concha. “They’ve probably got the Oxford manner, or are not Old Liberals, or something.”
“You are quite right, Concha. Both flowers and children irritate him,” said the Doña bitterly.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Dick, with indifferent good humour. “By the way,” he added, “I’ve asked a young fellow called Munroe down for the week-end. He’s representing a South African sugar firm we have to do with ... it’ll be all right, won’t it?”
“Well, Arnold’s written to say he’s coming, and he doesn’t like strangers, you know,” said the Doña.
“Well, I’m blessed ... has it come to this ...” he spluttered, roused completely out of his habitual good humour.
“No, it hasn’t,” said Concha soothingly, and laid a hand on his.
“Well, all the same, it’s ...” he growled; and then subsided, slightly appeased.
The Doña, quite unmoved, continued placidly eating her sole. Then she remarked, “And where is your friend to sleep, may I ask? Arnold is bringing down Guy and a cousin of his. When the children are here you _know_ how little room we have.”