was rather that I was thinking of,” said Laura. “Yes, I have thought you had been crying, several times. I’m glad you weren’t. And don’t worry about me at Mûres-sur-Mer. I’ll look after Grandfather all right, and anyway I’ll get some swimming.”
“But tell me,” said Tania, “what did you think I was upset about at home?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Oh, tell the truth, Laura,” said Tania. “It’s such an odd idea to have got into your head. What could go wrong at home?”
“Well, I thought perhaps Papa had lost a lot of money,” replied Laura. “He has seemed worried, and so have you, and people’s fathers seem to lose their money. Two of the girls in my class say theirs suddenly got poor. They say it was awful, like a hurricane. One day the money was there and the next day it wasn’t.”
“How absurd you are,” said Tania, turning to her looking-glass and again combing her hair as if trouble had got into it as knots get into knitting wool. “But I suppose if you got that idea it may have been quite frightening. But never worry about that. We’re very fortunate. If Papa lost all his money we should still be all right. Your grandfather was very generous to us when we married, and there’ll always be a lot of money coming to us from Russia, and it’s all from things that can’t run away, mines and railways and oil wells. But do tell me next time you get an idea like that. I hate to think of you worrying over nothing.”
“I didn’t really, not much,” said Laura, “except that I’d prefer you to be all right, you know. When do we go to Aunt Florence?”
“In two days’ time,” said Tania. But her eyes were on Laura’s like an unhappy dog’s. “But why should you suddenly have got this idea about your father losing his money? You never think of money. Osmund likes to save it and Lionel likes to spend it, but you’ve hardly heard of it. Why should you develop a theory that we were going to be poor and worry about it? Are you sure you weren’t worried about something else? Do tell me.”
“It was the two girls in my class that made me frightened,” Laura persisted calmly. She wondered at her own power of lying. “They mind being poor awfully. They’re not going to be presented at court. Does the Mûres-sur-Mer train leave in the morning or the afternoon?”
“Some time fairly early in the morning. And nothing can happen to you. Pyotr is going ahead with the heavy luggage and the bed-linen—Grandpapa and Grandmamma simply will not understand that that is unnecessary in the West. Then the little Kamensky will take you down to the Gare du Nord and put you in the train, a slow train that stops at Mûres-sur-Mer, and Pyotr will meet you on the platform. I can’t see that anything can go wrong.”
“Can’t you? You should read the litany,” said Laura. “There’s always earthquakes, for one thing.” She felt that things had eased enough for her to kiss her mother. They clung together, and Laura thought, reading the tension of the familiar body in her arms, “She’s glad to be so close to me that I can’t see her face. What can have happened?” She rubbed her own face against Tania’s shoulder as if she herself were the one that needed comfort. A tremor warned her that her mother was near to weeping. Laura released her and walked over to the window, saying, “We’re going to have another gorgeous sunset. Do you suppose it really is because of that earthquake in Martinique that we’re having all these marvellous sunsets?”
“It wasn’t an earthquake, it was a volcanic eruption,” said Tania, and Laura said, “I was practising, I was being polite to it, just as I’ve got to be to Aunt Florence,” and Tania said in a sleepy and unconcerned voice, “But it’s more polite to call an earthquake a volcanic eruption that the other way round, there’s something very dashing about a volcano, and now I must go to Mamma. She’s been too long with those people,
“But tell me,” said Tania, “what did you think I was upset about at home?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Oh, tell the truth, Laura,” said Tania. “It’s such an odd idea to have got into your head. What could go wrong at home?”
“Well, I thought perhaps Papa had lost a lot of money,” replied Laura. “He has seemed worried, and so have you, and people’s fathers seem to lose their money. Two of the girls in my class say theirs suddenly got poor. They say it was awful, like a hurricane. One day the money was there and the next day it wasn’t.”
“How absurd you are,” said Tania, turning to her looking-glass and again combing her hair as if trouble had got into it as knots get into knitting wool. “But I suppose if you got that idea it may have been quite frightening. But never worry about that. We’re very fortunate. If Papa lost all his money we should still be all right. Your grandfather was very generous to us when we married, and there’ll always be a lot of money coming to us from Russia, and it’s all from things that can’t run away, mines and railways and oil wells. But do tell me next time you get an idea like that. I hate to think of you worrying over nothing.”
“I didn’t really, not much,” said Laura, “except that I’d prefer you to be all right, you know. When do we go to Aunt Florence?”
“In two days’ time,” said Tania. But her eyes were on Laura’s like an unhappy dog’s. “But why should you suddenly have got this idea about your father losing his money? You never think of money. Osmund likes to save it and Lionel likes to spend it, but you’ve hardly heard of it. Why should you develop a theory that we were going to be poor and worry about it? Are you sure you weren’t worried about something else? Do tell me.”
“It was the two girls in my class that made me frightened,” Laura persisted calmly. She wondered at her own power of lying. “They mind being poor awfully. They’re not going to be presented at court. Does the Mûres-sur-Mer train leave in the morning or the afternoon?”
“Some time fairly early in the morning. And nothing can happen to you. Pyotr is going ahead with the heavy luggage and the bed-linen—Grandpapa and Grandmamma simply will not understand that that is unnecessary in the West. Then the little Kamensky will take you down to the Gare du Nord and put you in the train, a slow train that stops at Mûres-sur-Mer, and Pyotr will meet you on the platform. I can’t see that anything can go wrong.”
“Can’t you? You should read the litany,” said Laura. “There’s always earthquakes, for one thing.” She felt that things had eased enough for her to kiss her mother. They clung together, and Laura thought, reading the tension of the familiar body in her arms, “She’s glad to be so close to me that I can’t see her face. What can have happened?” She rubbed her own face against Tania’s shoulder as if she herself were the one that needed comfort. A tremor warned her that her mother was near to weeping. Laura released her and walked over to the window, saying, “We’re going to have another gorgeous sunset. Do you suppose it really is because of that earthquake in Martinique that we’re having all these marvellous sunsets?”
“It wasn’t an earthquake, it was a volcanic eruption,” said Tania, and Laura said, “I was practising, I was being polite to it, just as I’ve got to be to Aunt Florence,” and Tania said in a sleepy and unconcerned voice, “But it’s more polite to call an earthquake a volcanic eruption that the other way round, there’s something very dashing about a volcano, and now I must go to Mamma. She’s been too long with those people,
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