She did not like to ask Miss Grierson-Amberly to wait while she went upstairs and changed her shoes, so she went out in her thin house-slippers and inappropriate openwork stockings. The girl, she noticed, had come down to breakfast wearing thick, heavy shoes with fringed tongues and woollen stockings.
“How’s the rock-garden?” Diana inquired.
“Oh, it’s all right.”
“Lady Aviolet always has such nice things. Are you keen on gardening too?”
“I don’t really know anything about it.”
“Neither do I,” Diana assured her, but Rose felt that their disclaimers were based upon the radically differing foundations of modesty and truthfulness respectively.
Their progress round the garden was punctuated by interested exclamations and inquiries from Diana, to which Rose made but inadequate rejoinders.
“What is that? I know I ought to know, we’ve got some at home, but I can’t remember.”
“It’s a lily,” said Rose, surprised.
“Yes. I meant what sort,” Diana explained gently.