Meanwhile Mrs. Brande had introduced her niece to a number of people; and, seeing her carried off by young Jervis, to look on at the tennis, had sunk into a low chair and abandoned herself to a discussion with another matron.
From this she was ruthlessly disturbed by Mrs. Langrishe.
“Excuse me, dear, but you are sitting on the World.”
“Oh no, indeed, I’m sure I am not,” protested the lady promptly, being reluctant to heave herself out of her comfortable seat.
“Well, please to look,” rather sharply.
“There!” impatiently, “you see it is not here. I don’t know why you should think that I was sitting on it.”
“I suppose,” with a disagreeable smile, “I naturally suspected you, because you sit on every one!” And then she moved off, leaving her opponent gasping.
“I never knew such an odious woman,” she cried, almost in tears. “She hustles me about and snaps at me, and yet she will have the face to write down and borrow all my plated side-dishes and ice machine the first time she has a dinner, but that is not often, thank goodness.”
In the meanwhile Honor had been leaning over a rustic railing watching a tennis match in which her uncle was playing. He was an enthusiast, played well, and looked amazingly young and active.
“So you have been making friends, I see,” observed Jervis.