“My child, my child, you will be ill,” said Lady Pendered, in real and well-founded alarm.
“I don’t care if I am, mamma,” said the wilful Lady Lucy. “These American things are very good. Why don’t we have them at home?”
“Tut, tut, my daughter; all the world knows nothing can excel England’s well-spread boards. This America of yours,” she continued, turning to Mrs. Lennox, “is a most extraordinary place. I’ve been here but a fortnight, and that I spent in New York. Very awful town, isn’t it?”
“Do you think so?” said Mrs. Lennox, politely non-committal.
“Indeed, yes. It’s so sudden and unexpected. One never knows what will happen next.”
“I’m rather fond of New York,” said Mrs. Lennox; “but of course its homes are different from English country houses.”
“Oh, quite different; and the service is something atrocious. My dear Miranda, you are to be congratulated on your establishment. I haven’t seen a decent lady’s-maid since I left England until I reached here. That pretty Millicent of yours is a treasure.”
Although inwardly convulsed, Betty managed to control her features, and by biting her lips achieved an expression of intense agony, which was, however, better than laughing aloud.
Not so Jessie. The sudden mental picture of Millicent assisting these ladies at their toilet was too much for her, and with a smothered sound, something between a chuckle and a scream, she hurriedly retreated to the kitchen.
“What is it?” cried Hester and Marjorie, seeing the waitress appear unexpectedly and almost in hysterics.