Miss Brant (evidently much embarrassed).—Oh, really now—I didn’t mean to suggest—this is really too dreadful! I assure you, I was only reminiscencing.
Mrs. Pratt.—Well, I’ll take it. It’s much more suitable than my old one. Do you like it, Lady Fanshawe?
Lady Fanshawe (as though not having heard the question).—Delightful!
Miss Brant.—Well, you’re awfully good, I’m sure! I’m really ever so glad you’ve got it. It’s rather a good thing, you know—only, I don’t want you to think . . . However, if you change your mind after you get it home, of course, I’ll take it back. I mean, you may find it out of tune with your old—er—er—your own things.
Mrs. Pratt.—What would you suggest in the way of a chair, and a table, perhaps?
Miss Brant (tearing herself from a whispered pæon on the subject of Mrs. Blaine’s hat).—Well, of course, if you want something good, that’s rather nice! A little heavy for the modern home, but the thing for the Tillington library. And there’s rather a decent chair—see, Lady Fanshawe? Isn’t that cross-stitch adorable?—that harmonises perfectly with the other two pieces. I don’t deny that it would be a bit stiff for the tired business man to sit in, but for the person who can afford to have a well-balanced room . . .
Mrs. Pratt (promptly).—I’ll take the chair!
Quietly, Marjorie left the room, and as the door closed behind her, Mrs. Pratt was saying in an attempt at playful graciousness.
“A hundred and seventy-five? Vurry reasonable! And it’s such a satisfaction to get the best! I hope, Lady Fanshawe, and you, too, Mrs. Blaine, that you’ll drop in on Tuesday afternoon for a cuppa-tea, and tell me how you like my new home!”