“She doesn’t know how to save herself,” she said.
“Yes, she really has been rather splendid, hasn’t she?” assented Miss Brant. “Everyone says so . . . I remember the first time I ever saw her. She wanted a terrible what-not-thing repaired. Little did I imagine, then, that some day she would be the wife of a Minister of the Crown. And have you heard a rumour about the Premiership? It makes me feel quite weepy. Only—only—I wish she wouldn’t wear such awful hats!”
“What do people say?” asked Azalea, ignoring the latter remark.
“Oh, you know the sort of thing—that she has done so much more than lend her name to patriotic functions and sit on platforms; that she has actually worked in the War Gardens, packed boxes, sewed, cooked and visited the soldiers’ wives. You know, it is rather splendid!”
Azalea nodded and raised her eyes to the stained glass window memorialising another Gentle Spirit who found His happiness in ministering to the needs of the humbler folk. “It is rather splendid,” she agreed.
“It must be very late,” said Miss Brant. “I wonder if that little minx, Mona, has been up to some of her tricks. By the way, have you heard about the Trevelyans?”
“Mercy, no! Not already?”
“Positively!”
“Why, it seems only last week since we were watching them get married. Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Both! And the screaming part of it is that the instant Mona heard the news, she had herself insured against twins!”