CHAPTER III
NOAH’S DOVE
“I really think, Miss Burtwell, you might be a little more careful,” Miss Isabella Ricker wailed, in a tone of hopeless remonstrance. It was the third time that morning that Madge had knocked against her easel, and human nature could bear no more.
“I think so too,” said Madge, in a voice as dejected as her victim’s own. “If I only knew how to prowl more intelligently, I would, I truly would.”
“Tie yourself to your own easel,” suggested Delia Smith; “then that will have to go first.”
“You’re a good one to talk!” cried Mary Downing. “You’ve upset my things twice this very morning!”
“Put those two behind each other,” 108 Josephine Wilkes suggested. “It will be a lesson to them.”
“And who’s going to sit behind the rear one?” somebody asked.
“Harriet Wells,” Delia Smith proposed. “Mr. Salome said ‘very good’ to her this morning; she must be proof against adversity.”