Beatrice was entering with a dainty tray. "You'll pardon the delay, won't you?" she said sweetly, as she offered the sparkling glasses. "You'll have some, Miss Billy?"
"No, I thank you," said Miss Billy, with heightened colour and a hasty manner. "If you will excuse me I'll see to my geraniums. Good-afternoon."
"And I," said Theodore, "shall betake myself to the bathroom to remove the unseemly signs of toil. I'll take my frappé with me, Bea,—may I? Good-bye, girls. Write me from gay Paree when you reach there," and Theodore followed Miss Billy into the dining room.
"Well?" he asked interrogatively, as he seated himself on a corner of the table to sip his frappé.
"It's far from well, Theodore Lee," snapped Miss Billy reproachfully, undecided as to whether to laugh or cry. "You told awful, unmitigated falsehoods! You know you did!"
“I have a leaning toward an up-to-date stable and riding ponies, myself.”
"My dear sister, I only enlarged upon truthful topics in a brilliant and society-like way. Beside, I had to hand them back the small change. I never in my life heard such stilted, patronising talk as they were giving you. And when they jumped on father,—well, that decided it. Good land, Sis,—what's the matter with this frappé!"