“Yes, Gertrude. He may like a piece of cake.”
“I don’t like men that are always eating cake!” Gertrude declared, giving a pull at the lilac-bush.
Her companion glanced at her, and then looked down on the ground. “I think father expected you would come to church,” she said. “What shall I say to him?”
“Say I have a bad headache.”
“Would that be true?” asked the elder lady, looking straight at the pond again.
“No, Charlotte,” said the younger one simply.
Charlotte transferred her quiet eyes to her companion’s face. “I am afraid you are feeling restless.”
“I am feeling as I always feel,” Gertrude replied, in the same tone.
Charlotte turned away; but she stood there a moment. Presently she looked down at the front of her dress. “Doesn’t it seem to you, somehow, as if my scarf were too long?” she asked.
Gertrude walked half round her, looking at the scarf. “I don’t think you wear it right,” she said.