Perhaps Wilfred was a little vexed, though he had resisted, for he was ready to agree with Mysie that they could not stay and drink tea.
But he did not escape his sister’s displeasure, for Mysie began at once, “How lucky it was that we came in time. I do believe that naughty little thing was just going to talk you over into doing what her sister had forbidden.”
“A savage, old, selfish bear. It was only the lane.”
“Full of crystals as sharp as needles, enough to cut any tyre in two,” said Mysie.
“Like your tongue, eh, Mysie?”
“Well, you did not do it! That is a comfort. You would not let her transgress, and ruin her sister’s good bicycle.”
“She is an uncommonly pretty little sprite, and the selfish hag of a sister only left orders that I was to take care of the bike! I could see where there was a stone as well as anybody else.”
“Hag!” angrily cried Mysie, “she is the only nice one of the whole lot. Vera is a nasty little thing, or she would never think of meddling with what does not belong to her, or trying to persuade you to allow it.”
“I call it abominable selfishness, dog in the mangerish, to shut up such a machine as that, and condemn her sisters to one great lumbering one.”
“That’s one account,” said Valetta. “Paula said it was only till they had learnt to ride properly, and till the stones have a little worn in.”