“Oh, I can’t be tidy,” said Doda. “I simply can’t. It’s no good trying.”
“Darling, you ought to try. It’s so odd. I’m so fearfully tidy. It’s almost a vice with me. One would have thought you’d have had it too.”
Doda said indifferently, “I don’t see why.” She said, “Oh, I am sleepy. It’s a matter of teaching when you’re a kid, that sort of thing. You’re tidy, but you never taught me to be tidy.”
Rosalie said some more of encouragement to tidiness. She then said, “And there’s another thing, Doda. I think you ought not to have rushed off like that to the Trevors last night without telling me.”
“Mother, you knew where I was. I told the maids.”
“You should have consulted me, Doda.”
The child assumed the Huggo look. “Mother, how could I? They only asked me on the telephone at tea-time. How could I have consulted you?”
“In the same way as you were invited. On the telephone.”
“Well, I never thought about it. Why should I if I had? I knew you’d have agreed. You wouldn’t have stopped me, would you? It’s dull enough, goodness knows.”
“Doda, what I’ve come in to talk about is this. When I was tidying your room last night—”