“Oh, Aubrey, that was too cruel!”
“No,” returned Aubrey; “she was Iphigenia, going to be sacrificed.”
“Mary unconsciously acted Diana,” said Ethel, “and bore the victim away.”
“Pray, was Daisy a willing Clytemnestra?” asked Meta.
“Oh, yes, she liked it,” said Aubrey, while Meta looked discomfited.
“I never could get proper respect paid to dolls,” said Margaret; “we deal too much in their natural enemies.”
“Yes,” said Ethel, “my only doll was like a heraldic lion, couped in all her parts.”
“Harry and Tom once made a general execution,” said Flora; “there was a doll hanging to every baluster—the number made up with rag.”
George Rivers burst out laughing—his first sign of life; and Meta looked as if she had heard of so many murders.
“I can’t help feeling for a doll!” she said. “They used to be like sisters to me. I feel as if they were wasted on children, that see no character in them, and only call them Dolly.”