Her gloom deepened.
“Youth, to-day, has opportunities such as we never dreamed of,” she said, and then looked still more dissatisfied. And indeed she detests a truism, and is not often guilty of uttering one.
“Opportunities? I’m sure I can’t think why a pretty girl like Sallie should want opportunities of cutting up dead rabbits and things,” said Christopher, simply. “Morbid rot, I call it.”
Chapter Three
Christopher had been with us for rather more than a week when the concert arranged by Lady Annabel took place at the Drill Hall. We all went, and were given seats in the front row, with the Ambreys and the Rector and Lady Annabel. Immediately behind us sat Nancy Fazackerly, with Captain Patch and two Kendals. Two more Kendals, with Puppa, Mumma and “poor old Alfred,” were just in front.
“We couldn’t get seats all together. I was so vexed about it,” said Mrs. Kendal, with her usual emphasis. “Aileen and Dolly are sitting with Nancy, which is very nice indeed, of course, but we should like to have sat all together. Alfred is at home for a holiday, and it would have been nicer if we’d all been together. A very poor program, isn’t it? What do they mean by ‘Mrs. Harter, Song’? Who is Mrs. Harter? Puppa, do you know who Mrs. Harter is?”
“Never heard of her in my life.”
Undeterred by a certain ungraciousness in the reply, Mumma addressed the same question collectively to Amy, to Blanche, and to Alfred. Unenlightened by them, she gazed wistfully at the inaccessible twins, and then remarked, with stony pertinacity:
“It would have been nicer to have had seats all together. I wonder if Aileen or Dolly knows who Mrs. Harter is. I could have asked them, if we’d all been sitting together. I must say, I do wish we could have got seats all together.”
I explained Mrs. Harter to her.