“Will you, Angela?” The summer visitor’s eyes became pathetic. “I’m sure I’ve been feeling quite dreadful with all this anxiety.”
“Your temperature,” said the spinster triumphantly to the suffragette, “is a hundred and twenty-eight.”
The Signorina started.
“But that’s quite impossible! Look here, let me show you. It won’t mark over a hundred and ten.”
For the first time the spinster was flustered.
“Oh, perhaps I read it wrong! Let me look again.”
After much fumbling and peering she became apologetic.
“I see I did make a mistake. It’s twenty-six.”
“Perhaps,” said the little lecturer hopelessly, “if I just went over the readings of the thermometer with you all once more——”