“Certainly I don’t,” said Rosamond. “It must be microscopic!”
“Only it shows the difference between culture and the reverse,” said Cecil.
“Well, you know, I’m the reverse,” said Rosamond, leaning sleepily back, and becoming silent; but Cecil was too anxious for intelligence to let her rest, and asked on what Mrs. Duncombe was saying.
“I am not quite sure—she was stirring up his public spirit, I think, about the drainage; and they were both of them deploring the slackness and insensibility of the corporation, and canvassing for Mr. Whitlock, as I believe. It struck me as a funny subject for a lady, but I believe she does not stick at trifles.”
“No real work can be carried out by those who do,” said Cecil.
“Oh!” added Rosamond, “I met Mrs. and Miss Bowater, and they desired me to say that Jenny can’t come till the dinner-party on the 20th, and then they will leave her.”
“How cool to send a message instead of writing!”
“Oh! she has always been like one of themselves, like a sister to them all.”
“I can’t bear that sort of people.”
“What sort?”