The word was out.
Never had Elma felt so horrified. Years she had spent in listening to refinements in language, only to come to this. Of her own cousin too!
"Oh, Mabs, it's shameful of me. And it will be so jolly for Jean. And you too! Oh, Mabs, shall I ever go to London, do you think?"
"You go and ask that duck of a father of ours--now--at present--this instant, and he will promise you anything in the world. No, don't, dear. On second thoughts he needs every bit of you here. Elma! Play up now. Play up like the little brick you are. You and Betty play up, and I'll bless you for ever. Don't you know I'm skipping all that racketing crowd. I'm skipping Robin. I'm skipping Sarah! Think of skipping the delectable Sarah!" She shook her fist in the direction of the Merediths' house. "And what is more, dear Elma, I am skipping Isobel."
She said that in a whisper.
They had all the feeling that Isobel was a presence, not always a mere physical reality.
Elma had not seen Mabel in such a joyous mood for weeks.
"And it's also because I feel I can soon square up Jean, and make her fit," said Mabel; "so that I'm of some use, you see, in going. I'm quite sure Jean is only home-sick after all."
She trilled and sang as she packed.
"Won't you be home-sick yourself, Mabel?" asked Elma anxiously.