‘I couldn’t have a lovely time if I thought all the money was being wasted and dwindling away when it ought to be properly invested. If we do get it, Harry ought to let Mr Marriot invest it for us.’

‘Well, perhaps he will. You must try and persuade him.’

‘Oh, I’m quite sure he wouldn’t. He and Francis are like Father in that way; they get quite livid and crazy at the very idea of anyone trying to ‘run’ them, as Father used to say. I have to be awfully careful not to try and boss them, though they’re really fond of me, I think … I’m so terrified of getting like Aunt Maxine and Uncle Preston, always poking about and interfering and trying to alter people. It would be too awful to get like that, and perhaps have Harry and Francis stop caring about me. I couldn’t bear it. And yet, at the same time, I do so want them to live orderly lives.’

‘You all ought to live together,’ said Celia, skilfully turning the frying potatoes, ‘then you could. Live orderly lives, I mean.’

‘Oh, that would be lovely!’ said Sophia, staring at her with a transfigured face. ‘I never thought of that. Do you think we could? If we pooled our money, and Francis got a job, and Harry got one too, in town? (Edward would help him, I expect … he knows everybody on the stage, and it hasn’t spoiled him a bit, being such a success. He still likes Harry and Francis just as much …) I could keep house for them, and perhaps in a year or two we could afford a maid; a proper one, I mean, not like the ones at the Surgery who always fell in love with Father and had to be sacked. Do you really think we could?’

‘It would be a bit of a sweat, I expect, getting away from your relations, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t, if you all stick together. Of course, if you sold the practice at once it would be much easier. Oh, Sophia, it would be lovely! You must come and live near me. I expect Mother would let you have the Cottage, if you asked her; it’s to let, you know, and I am sure she would rather you three had it than some ghastly person who would break all the windows.’

But Sophia hardly heard the end of her sentence; she jumped off the table (twisting her ankle and nearly overbalancing as she did so) and seized Celia by the arm.

‘Celia! not the heavenly little cottage in the Vale, with the panelled sitting room? It’s too good to be true! She wouldn’t let us have it, would she? Besides, we haven’t any furniture … and in any case I’m sure it’s too nice ever to happen.’

‘You could buy some of the Surgery furniture, if Harry decides to sell it later on. I don’t know about rent; of course, it’s furnished now, and she could let it for about four guineas a week, but she wouldn’t want anything like as much as that from you; we’ve known you for such ages – and then you wouldn’t want it completely furnished. Oh, Sophia, of course you must live there! We’d have such good times! Let’s write to Mother tonight!’