Mrs. Wyburn found Miss Westbury being sensible and decided and holding forth about things in general to one or two friends over the tea-cups. Something in the way the old lady sat down and unfastened her mantle, so as to be sure to feel the benefit of it when she went out again, made the other women present feel that they were not wanted, and Miss Westbury did not attempt to detain them. For (though she would not have put it like that) she knew that she would get more fun out of her friend's méchanceté if they were alone. Scandal, gossip made tedious by morality, is only really enjoyable en tête-à-tête.
"I do so hope, Isabella, that you haven't had any more annoyance about the silly things that are being said about your pretty daughter-in-law," remarked Miss Westbury, leaning back with the comfortable amiability of a fat woman who expects to be amused.
Mrs. Wyburn looked round the room.
"Curious you never have your ceiling painted," she said. "I've often wondered why it is. It looks—you'll forgive me for saying so, Millie, won't you?—as if you left it in its present state from motives of, may I say, economy? But, of course, I know it isn't that—I always say, it's simply that you haven't noticed it. Thanks, no—no tea."
Miss Westbury's serenity was slightly disturbed, as her friend intended.
"I certainly don't spend my whole time lying on my back looking at the ceiling," she answered rather brusquely. "I have far too much to do."
"I never suggested that you should," quickly replied Mrs. Wyburn. "Such a thing never occurred to me for a single moment. And please don't think I wish to interfere, or to make remarks about anything that doesn't concern me. It merely struck me that if, at any time, you thought by some curious chance of having the house done up, it might be a pity to leave out the ceiling. But that was all. I do assure you, Millie, I never dreamt of hurting your feelings."
Miss Westbury laughed with a rather cackling sound—a sound Mrs. Wyburn recognised with satisfaction. It showed just the degree of slight annoyance she loved to cause in any one to whom she was speaking. Miss Westbury, however, waived the question and became hospitable.
"Do let me persuade you to have a toasted bun. Our baker makes them in a special way on purpose for me. There's nothing in the world more sensible with one's tea than a small toasted currant bun. I was speaking to Dr. Gribling about it only the other day, oddly enough, and he quite agreed with me."
"Why only the other day? and why oddly enough, Millie?—I dare say you speak to him constantly about it and about other equally urgent matters." She spoke with what she meant to be a slight sneer, in reply to which Miss Westbury behaved in a manner that is sometimes described as bridling up. She gave a movement meant to be a toss of the head and placed her lips firmly together.