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Aunt Adela, then, was flattered at Mrs. Cloud’s approval of Aunt Adela’s niece, put no difficulties in Laura’s way, and, after a time, grew tired of questioning her as to how she got on with Mrs. Cloud, how she employed the regularly lengthening hours she spent at the Priory. Yet, under her acquiescence, and without any special affection for Laura, she resented Laura’s stubborn preference for Mrs. Cloud in exactly the fashion that I resented the defection of Topaz. Why couldn’t Laura be contented at home? After all, they must be a nicer family than the Clouds—even than the Clouds!

Gran’papa, by the way, made no comment at all, shared neither Aunt Adela’s voluble approval—“and Mrs. Cloud has such an Influence”—nor her secret acerbity. Possibly he was uninterested—possibly he was not left out in the cold. Laura knew her way to Gran’papa’s room. And Gran’papa, between his care of his granddaughter’s grammar and his correction of her pronunciation and enunciation—he was never satisfied with either—may yet have had time to be thrilled by the news that Mrs. Cloud had sent Justin a hamper, that Laura had helped her to pack it and had dug up her own radish from her own garden to put in, because Mrs. Cloud had said that Justin simply loved—liked, Gran’papa—Justin simply liked radishes! and had Gran’papa read The Tiger of Mysore—Henty? It was Justin’s book, only one of the covers was gone, and Mrs. Cloud had said that Justin had said she might have it. She would lend it to Gran’papa if he liked. A perfectly ripping—a most extremely interesting book.