“I don’t see what you are laughing at,” she said plaintively, in answer to Barth’s merriment. “I am only trying to make my meaning unmistakable to you.”
Barth laughed again.
“Oh, in time you would make a fairly good Englishwoman,” he said reassuringly.
Only Nancy’s super-acute ear could have discovered the note of condescension in his voice. She set down her teacup with a thump.
“Thank you; but I have no aspirations in that direction,” she responded shortly.
“How strange!” Barth observed, as he took another scone, opened it and peered in to see which was the more buttery side.
“I don’t see anything strange at all,” Nancy argued. “Who wants to be English?”
Barth shut up the scone like a box, and laid it down on the edge of his saucer.
“I do.”
“Well, you are. You ought to be satisfied.”