“And darns in it,” I added.
“—could possibly be pernicious?”
“‘The Pernicious Stocking; or, Thoughts on the Ethics of Petticoats,’” said Irais. “Put that down as the name of your next book on Germany.”
“I never know,” complained Minora, letting her note-book fall, “whether you are in earnest or not.”
“Don’t you?” said Irais sweetly.
“Is it true,” appealed Minora to the Man of Wrath, busy with his lemons in the background, “that your law classes women with children and idiots?”
“Certainly,” he answered promptly, “and a very proper classification, too.”
We all looked blank. “That’s rude,” said I at last.
“Truth is always rude, my dear,” he replied complacently. Then he added, “If I were commissioned to draw up a new legal code, and had previously enjoyed the privilege, as I have been doing lately, of listening to the conversation of you three young ladies, I should make precisely the same classification.”
Even Minora was incensed at this.