"It's so much nicer," she said to Maud, the eldest unmarried daughter, a
bouncing young woman of generous proportions, "to have something at your
own house. My idea is to make a pleasure of charity. The most
disagreeable things can be got through pleasantly. Now, you're such a
sensible girl, can't you think of something?"

Mrs. Dobson always speaks of Maud as "such a sensible girl"; spiteful
people suggest that this praise is a form of apology for the absence of
physical charm.

Maud meditated deeply. "Everybody seems to have thought of everything,
mamma, that's the worst of it. You see, Mrs. Newt has that drawing class
for orphan boys; then there's Mrs. Badger's fund for giving musical
instruction to the children of soldiers and sailors, and the Parrys have
dancing classes for them."

"That's just it. We ought to be doing something useful of that kind. It's
a public duty for people in our position."

"But I think we are doing our share, mamma. What with your committee and
Effie teaching those Belgian refugee children to play hockey and me at
the canteen for ineligible shop assistants."

"I know, my dear. Still, it would be so nice to have something here--just
to bring people together, as it were, in a cosy way."

Before any conclusion was reached tea was brought, and just then Joan
came in from a concert at the Mandolin Hall, bringing a startling piece
of news.