"For goodness sake, don't call her Mrs. Ess Kay to her face again," cut in Vic.
"I didn't mean to; it slipped out," I defended myself. "Besides, it was you who nicknamed her that."
"Mrs. Stuyvesant-Knox is a very charming person, and a thorough woman of the world," Mother asserted, in that way she has of saying the word which you had better leave for the last if you know what is good for you.
I did leave it for the last so far as answering was concerned, but inside, where, thank goodness, even her eyes can't see, I was wondering hard when Mother had formed that flattering opinion. A fortnight ago I heard her announce that Americans "got upon her nerves," and she hoped she would not soon be called upon to meet any more. As she had made this remark directly after bidding Mrs. Ess Kay good-bye, I naturally supposed that lady to be the immediate cause for it. But now, it seemed, this was not the case.
"You would be very ungrateful if you disliked her," Mother went on, "as she took such a tremendous fancy to you."
"Dear me, I didn't know that!" I exclaimed, opening my eyes wide. "I thought it was Vic she——"
"You are her favourite, as you are with Miss Woodburn, also," said Mother, who gets the effect of being so tremendously dignified partly, I believe, from never clipping her words as the rest of us do. "I am asking them down again especially on your account, and I want you to be particularly nice to them."
"It's easy enough to be nice to Sally Woodburn, but——"
I caught a look from Vic and broke off my sentence, hurrying to change it into another. "As they're sailing for the States so soon, I shan't have time to spread myself much."
"Don't be slangy, Betty; it doesn't suit you," said Mother. "You pick up too many things from Stanforth."