“Flies don’t buzz,” she said passionately. “They don’t buzz. Why do people say they buzz?” The pain pressing behind her temples slackened. In a moment it would be only a glow.
Miss Haddie stood with bent head, her face turning from side to side, with its sour hesitating smile, her large eyes darting their strange glances about the room.
“Won’t you sit down a minute? They haven’t sounded the first bell yet.” Miriam sat down on the one little white-painted, cane-seated chair near the dressing-table. “Eh—eh,” said Miss Haddie, beginning to unfasten her veil. “She doesn’t approve of general conversation,” thought Miriam. “She’s a female. Oh well, she’ll have to see I’m not.”
“What gave you yer headache?”
“Oh well, I don’t know. I suppose I was wondering what it was all about.”
“I don’t think I quite understand ye.”
“Well, I mean—what that old gentleman was in such a state of mind about.”
“D’ye mean Mr. La Trobe!”
“Yes. Why do you laugh?”