Messalina of the suburbs

by E. M. Delafield

(Exit Miss Miller, and shuts the door.)

Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: I don’t know that I altogether like that girl. Rather horrid of her to be so curious, wasn’t it?

Mrs. Ballantyne: Any young woman with a nice mind would have been only too thankful to be spared the embarrassment of staying in the room while such a thing was being discussed. (Her tone changes to eagerness.) Well, this is too dreadful! Which of the girls is it?

Mrs. Akers: I’m certain it’s one of those twins! They really are pretty—you know what I mean, pretty for that class. Which of them is it?

Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: It’s nothing to do with the twins. (Though I daresay it’ll be them next—one never knows, when once this sort of thing begins.) No, it’s the girl from London, the daughter of that widowed Mrs. Smith who has been taking in washing in West Street.

Mrs. Akers: Fanny!

Mrs. Ballantyne: That child! But she can’t be more than sixteen.

Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Fifteen. But one knows what London girls are, at any age.

Mrs. Akers: How did you find out? Is it absolutely certain?

Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Absolutely. It ought to have been found out months ago, if the girl hadn’t been so artful. Even her mother says she had no idea, till just the other day.