"Beautifully—I would try it if I were a parti."
"And how's the little boy?" Mrs. Gosselin presently inquired.
"What little boy?"
"Your little cousin—Lord Beaupré's child: isn't it a boy?"
"Oh, poor little beggar, he isn't up to much. He was awfully cut up by scarlet fever."
"You're not the rose indeed, but you're tolerably near it," the elder lady presently continued.
"What do you call near it? Not even in the same garden—not in any garden at all, alas!"
"There are three lives—but after all!"
"Dear lady, don't be homicidal!"
"What do you call the 'rose'?" Mary asked of her mother.