“Dear, dear!” cried little Mrs Dorothy, holding up her hands. “I protest, my dear, I shall be drove to learn the English tongue anew if this mode go on.”
“Well, Mrs Dolly, suppose your tale should go on?” suggested Rhoda. “Heyday! do you know what everybody is saying?—everybody that is anybody, you understand.”
“I thought that everybody was somebody,” remarked Mrs Dorothy, with a comical set of the lips.
“Oh dear, no!” said Rhoda. “There are ever so many people who are nobody.”
“Indeed!” said Mrs Dorothy. “Well, child, what is everybody saying?”
“Why, they say the Duke is not so well with the Queen as he has been. ’Tis thought, I assure you, by many above people.”
“Is that one of the new words?” inquired Mrs Dorothy, with a little laugh. “Dear child, what mean you?—the angels?”
“Oh, Mrs Dorothy, you are the oddest creature!” cried Rhoda. “Why, you know very well what I mean. Should you be sorry, Mrs Dolly, if the Duke became inconsiderable?”
“No, my dear. Why should I?”
“Well, I thought—” but Rhoda’s thought went no further.