““Francesca actually felt her chin drop. “Mother,” she said, shaking her head, “you really should have stopped at seven.” “Children, you mean?” Violet asked, sipping at her tea. “Sometimes I do wonder.” “Mother!” Hyacinth exclaimed. Violet just smiled at her. “Salt?” “It took her eight tries to get it right,” Hyacinth announced, thrusting the salt cellar at her mother with a decided lack of grace. “And does that mean that you, too, hope to have eight children?” Violet inquired sweetly. “God no,” Hyacinth said. With great feeling. And neither she nor Francesca could quite resist a chuckle after that.””
