"Well, I hate staying with people," Monica explained.
"So do I," said Pauline. "And you accepted the invitation for me that day you were in Oxford buying Christmas presents, when you forgot to buy the patience-cards I wanted to give poor Miss Verney, so that I had to give her a horrid little china dog, though she hates dogs."
"Now I'm sure it'll be charming, yes, charming, when you get there," Mrs. Grey affirmed, hopefully.
"Oh, how glad I am I'm not going!" said Margaret.
"I think you ought to go instead of me," Pauline told her.
"They're not my friends," Margaret replied, with a shrug.
"No, but they're more your friends than mine," Pauline argued. "Because you're nearer to Monica. They're four years off being my friends and only two from being yours."
"Miss Monica," said Janet, coming into the room, "the 'bus has come out from the King's Head yard, and you'll be late."
There was instantly a confusion of preparation by Mrs. Grey and Pauline, while Monica sighed at the trouble of departure, and Margaret with exasperating indifference sat warm and triumphant by the fire.
"Good gracious!" the Rector exclaimed, flinging the catalogue down and speaking loud enough to be heard over the feverish search for Pauline's left glove. "These people have the impudence to advertise Penstemon Lobbii as a novelty when it's really our old friend Breviflorus. What on earth is to be done with these scoundrels?"