"What have you been doing with yourself, my dear?" Madam Fulton asked Rose, who was looking from one to another with an accessible brightness, as if she only wanted a chance to respond to everything beautifully. She bent a little, deferentially, toward Madam Fulton.
"Reading aloud this morning," she said, "to grannie."
"You call her grannie, do you?"
"I begged to. I adore her."
"Does she like it?"
"Oh, yes, she likes it," Rose returned, with her lovely smile. "Don't you think she likes it?"
"I know she does. That's what I can't understand. Every time I hear Electra say 'grandmother' it's like a nail in my coffin."
"Grandmother!" exclaimed Electra, in an instant and quite honest deprecation.
"That's it, my dear," nodded the old lady. "That's precisely it. Nail me down."
Then luncheon was announced, and they went out, Rose with that instant deference toward Madam Fulton which suggested a hundred services while she delicately refrained from doing one.