"Dodo is too dramatic," said Edith. "She never gets off the stage; and sometimes she plays to the gallery, and then the stalls say, 'How cheap she's making herself.' She has the elements of a low comedian about her."
"And the airs of a tragedy queen, I suppose," added Miss Grantham.
"Exactly," said Edith; "and the consequence is that she as a burlesque sometimes: She is her own parody."
"Darling Dodo," said Grantie with feeling. "I do want to see her again."
"All her conduct after his death," continued Edith, "that was the tragedy queen; she shut herself up in that great house, quite alone, for two months, and went to church with a large prayer-book every morning, at eight. But it was burlesque all the same. Dodo isn't sorry like that. The gallery yelled with applause."
"I thought it was so sweet of her," murmured Grantie. "I suppose I'm gallery too."
"Then she went abroad," continued Edith, "and sat down and wept by the waters of Aix. But she soon took down her harp. She gave banjo parties on the lake, and sang coster songs."
"Mrs. Vane told me she recovered her spirits wonderfully at Aix," remarked Miss Grantham.
"And played baccarat, and recovered other people's money," pursued Edith. "If she'd taken the first train for Aix after the funeral, I should have respected her."
"Oh, that would have been horrid," said Miss Grantham; "besides, it wouldn't have been the season."