“Got an idea. Take away Janet’s frock, and wear it myself. Then you can wear yours. Too pretty for parlour-maids. Eh?”
A heavenly brightness spread over Miss Mapp’s face.
“Oh, how wonderful of you to have thought of that, Diva,” she said. “But how shall we explain it all to everybody?”
Diva clung to her rights. Though clearly Christian, she was human.
“Say I thought of tacking chintz on and told you,” she said.
“Yes, darling,” said Elizabeth. “That’s beautiful, I agree. But poor Janet!”
“I’ll give her some other old thing,” said Diva. “Good sort, Janet. Wants me to win.”
“And about her having been seen wearing it?”
“Say she hasn’t ever worn it. Say they’re mad,” said Diva.
Miss Mapp felt it better to tear herself away before she began distilling all sorts of acidities that welled up in her fruitful mind. She could, for instance, easily have agreed that nothing was more probable than that Janet had been mistaken for her mistress…