"I suppose so," says Mona lifting her brows.
"Then I can only say I pity you," says Miss Mansergh, leaning back in her chair, with the air of one who would say, "Argument here is in vain."
"I sha'n't want to see them, perhaps," says Mona, apologetically, "but how shall I avoid it?"
"Ah, now, that is more reasonable; now we are coming to it," says Doatie, briskly. "We 'return to our muttons.' As Lady Rodney, in a very rude manner, tried to explain to you, you will either say you are not at home, or that you have a headache. The latter is not so good; it carries more offence with it, but it comes in pretty well sometimes."
"But, as I said to Lady Rodney, suppose I haven't a headache," retorts Mona, triumphantly.
"Oh, you are incorrigible!" says Doatie, leaning back in her chair in turn, and tilting backward her little flower-like face, that looks as if even the most harmless falsehood must be unknown to it.
"Could you not imagine you had one?" she says, presently as a last resource.
"I could not," says Mona. "I am always quite well." She is standing before them like a culprit called to the bar of justice. "I never had a headache, or a toothache, or a nightmare, in my life."
"Or an umbrella, you should add. I once knew a woman like that, but she was not like you," says Doatie. "Well, if you are going to be as literal as you now are, until you call for your shroud, I must say I don't envy you."
"Be virtuous and you'll be happy, but you won't have a good time," quotes Violet; "you should take to heart that latest of copy-book texts."