“No. I shall do no such thing.”
“Bonny-Gay!” There was a volume of reproach in the tones.
“No. Not a line.”
“Whose house is this, do you suppose?”
“I don’t ‘suppose’ when I know things.”
“Whose, then?”
“Let’s go ask.”
“Why Beulah Standish McClure! What would your mother say? If there’s anything she wants you to be it’s a lady. So I’ve heard her say, time and again.”
“So have I. I’m tired of hearing it. I mean, I’m trying to be one. She wouldn’t care. She’d do it herself, if she were here.”
“Never! She never, never would be so rude.”