The House of Discontent by Esther Wyndham Page A

She does everything.”
    “Cooks and everything?” Dorothy asked incredulously. “But this house is quite as big as The Knowle?”
    “Well, I do a good deal myself, of course,” Lady Brierleigh answered. “Unfortunately, I was never taught to cook, but I find I’m not at all bad as a housemaid.”
    “You do the housework yourself?” Dorothy asked.
    “I look after the top floor, yes. This little house is so convenient as it’s on two floors. I really enjoy my housework very much. It used to take me hours, but now I get through it quite quickly. I’m not quite so conscientious as I was to start with, I’m afraid,” and she chuckled mischievously.
    “Anyway, the house has never been so well kept as since mother has been looking after it,” Anthony put in with a smile. “The only trouble is that she gets so angry if one uses the basin after she has cleaned it!”
    “Yes,” Lady Brierleigh said. “I’m awful that way. But it does make one more considerate when one has to do one’s own work.”
    “I can’t see how you have time to do all that,” Dorothy said, “and the hospital as well and everything else you do.”
    “My position in the hospital is a sinecure only,” Lady Brierleigh replied. “The best thing we old people can do is to look after our own homes, and our own grandchildren if we are lucky enough to have any, and leave the young ones free for the exciting and difficult jobs.”
    “I hope you have taken all that in, Dorothy,” Peter said. Dorothy flushed with annoyance.
    “But it’s such a tie,” she said. “It leaves one no time for more important things if one has to look after the house. Anybody can do domestic work.”
    “But can one imagine anything pleasanter than being tied to one’s own home?” Lady Brierleigh asked mildly. “And I believe that it is important also, and that it takes brains and intelligence to run a house properly. I do not think that there can be any more important job for a married woman than looking after her own home and the happiness and well-being of her husband and family.”
    There was an awkward silence for a moment or two after this little speech. Peter had said: “Hear, hear!” under his breath, and the words had not escaped Dorothy. She flushed a deeper red. Even her neck became crimson, but whether from anger or mortification it was impossible to say. Edward came to his mother’s rescue, and Patricia liked him for it because it showed his loyalty.
    “Oh, well,” he said, “I suppose we all have our own spheres of usefulness.”
    It wasn’t a particularly bright remark to make, but it met the case and saved the situation. The conversation turned on to the weather—a perfectly safe topic, and so often the subject of conversation between comparative strangers for that very reason.
    After lunch Anthony said to Dorothy: “May I come with you, Mrs. Leslie, and see Mary for a moment?”
    Dorothy seemed surprised.
    “Yes, certainly,” she answered, “but I don’t know that any of us will be allowed to see her. She has to be kept perfectly quiet.”
    “I’ll wangle it,” Anthony said in a quiet voice to Patricia. “Matron is a great friend of mine.”
    Mary was not permitted to see them all together. First her mother and father went in, but they only stayed a few minutes, and then Patricia and Anthony entered the sickroom. Edward said that there really wasn’t much point in his going in again as there were so many of them; he would come and see her again tomorrow.
    Anthony went straight to Mary’s bedside and bent over her and took her hand.
    “Look here,” he said, “don’t be disappointed about the dance. I promise you I’ll give a party for you later on when you are quite better. It will be much more fun than Camilla’s because the weather will be better, and you’ll be the centre of it all, for I will be giving it especially for you. You can ask anyone you like and we’ll have lots of fun.”
    “Yes,” Patricia put in,