Thus Beatrice, humorously.
And Bob:
“Well, perhaps—if you were to press me to a jelly——”
Lydia was not in the least amused at these sallies, but she laughed at them cheerfully enough. She felt immeasurably superior to the Senthovens, and had every intention of proving that superiority to them before the end of her stay.
At first blush, this did not appear to be any too easy. There was no doubt that the Senthovens, the girls especially, were efficient in their own line of action.
Beatrice was a renowned hockey captain; Olive had silver trophies from both the Golf Club and the Swimming Club, and both had won Junior Championships at lawn-tennis.
“Are you a good walker, old girl?” Beatrice one day inquired of Lydia.
This last term of endearment was a sign of the highest goodwill, and if employed too frequently would almost certainly lead to the accusation of sloppiness.
“Oh, yes,” said Lydia, thinking of the school crocodile wending its decorous way the length of the Parade.
“Good. Olive’s an awful rotter at walking. You and I can do some tramps together. Are you game for a six o’clock start to-morrow morning?”