“Lady Judith, tell her what she missed. I never saw the automobile yet that could take me away from such a lobster salad.”
“Perhaps she didn’t know about it.”
“Indeed she did. She made the mayonnaise herself. Sylvia can’t hit it one time in three. And mamma and Drusilla ... the oil always separates, on them.”
“Separates on them!” Eileen sniffed. “Where do you get that line of talk?”
She had relaxed on the oaken bench and sat kicking the gravel with the toe of her loose slipper. After a time she broke the sullen silence:
“I didn’t mean to be discourteous to you, Lady Judith. That’s what Sylvia scolded me about; but that wasn’t what she had in mind. She’s sore because I didn’t bring Hal to her party. I knew what kind of a frosty shoulder he’d get from Lary and papa. And the way she fawns over him! It makes me sick. He hates to be toadied to—because his people have money. He knows that if he didn’t have a rich father, mamma and Sylvia wouldn’t think any more of him than Lary does. He’d take me away from that house to-day, if he had his way about it. He knows what I’m in for ... Sylvia to order me around for a month. I almost wish mamma hadn’t gone to Bromfield.”