"Apparently you didn't see Mrs. Waldo's statement that quarter of an hour a day was quite enough for that so-called work."
"Do you believe that?"
"I know it's false. Still there are ninety-six quarters of an hour in a day, people estimate. What sort of girl is she? Little nitwit, I suppose?"
"She's my cousin."
"Lots of people have little nitwits for cousins. Why doesn't she pitch in and earn her keep, like a free personality—as our friend Miss Hodger would say?"
Miss Wing was observing him with a strange air, resembling amusement. "You must really ask her that yourself some time, Mr. Garrott."
"I'll do it with pleasure, the first time ever I clap eyes on her."
"Well, then," said she, with a sudden laugh, "do it now!"
And thereupon, within ten seconds, the managing young woman had whisked him around a knot of Redmantlers, whisked him around the bookcase, and was saying in merry, efficient tones:—
"Angela, this is the famous Mr. Garrott you've heard so much about—my cousin, Miss Flower! Mr. Garrott's very anxious to—"