"What's 'intermediate'?"
"Well, mother and father, and the parson who got into trouble through drinking, and his wife who ran away with a groom."
Evie drew a long sigh.
"Where is your swain?" she asked. "I don't like that word 'swain,' it sounds so much like 'swine'."
"I hope you will never see the resemblance any clearer," said Christina. "My swain is working, too. I shouldn't take off that petticoat, if I were you, Evie; he may come in and you can see your knickers through that dressing-gown."
"Christina!"
"I hate mentioning knickers to a pure-minded girl," said Christina, fanning herself with a paper, "but sisters have no secrets from one another. Ambrose, if that is who you mean, is very busy these days."
"Do you call him Ambrose to his face?" asked Evie curiously, and her sister snorted.
"Would you call Julius Cæsar 'Bill' or 'Juley' to his face; of course not. But I can't think of him as Ambrose Sault, Esquire, can I?"
"I don't understand him," said Evie. "He seems so dull and quiet."