"She doesn't bore _you_, Uncle Hugh, of course, because you're a man."
(Winny said that.)
"Then," said Eddy, "there's _us_. You know, we're an awful family for a
woman like Jinny to have married into. There isn't one of us fit to
black her boots. And I believe Uncle Henry thinks she wasn't made for
anything except to bring more of us into the world."
Brodrick's face displayed a fine flush.
"_You_'re all right, Uncle Hugh."
Brodrick lowered his eyelids in modest acceptance of this tribute.
"I keep forgetting you're one of them, because you married her."
"What else did you say to him?"
Eddy became excited. "Oh--I got in one before we left--I landed him
neatly. I asked him why on earth--if he thought she was neurotic--he let
her shut herself up for a whole year with that screaming kid, when any
fat nurse would have done the job as well? And why he let her break her
neck, running round after Aunt Mabel? I had him there."
"What did your Uncle say to that?" (Brodrick's voice was rather faint.)
"He didn't say anything. He couldn't--oh--well, he _did_ say my
impertinence was unendurable. And I said _his_ was, when you think what
Jinny is."
He meditated on it. He had become, suddenly, a grave and reverent
youth.
"We really came," Winny said, "to know whether Jinny _is_ going away?"
"She is going away," said Brodrick, "for three months."
He rose and held out the hand of parting. To his surprise Winny kissed
him and kept her face against his as she whispered, "And _if_--she has
to stay a year?"
"She shall stay," Brodrick said.