“Mary Queen of who!” snarled Caroline.
“No, my dear Miss Burden,” said the eminent authority, “the only possible person you can go as is Katharine of Aragon.”
“Nonsense, Cheriton!” said Caroline. “I shall not permit Burden to appear in any such character. A Jane Austen spinster will be far more appropriate and far less expensive.”
“My dear Caroline,” said Cheriton, “how it would help everybody if you did not insist on airing your views upon matters of art! Do you wish Miss Burden to forfeit entirely her natural distinction?”
Miss Burden blushed most becomingly at his lordship’s remark.
“I was not aware that she had any,” said the ruthless Caroline.
“Upon my word, Caroline, even I begin to despair of you. I assure you Miss Burden is quite one of the most distinguished-looking women of my acquaintance.”
Miss Burden looked almost as startled as a fawn. Cheriton had never seen her display so much color as when he made her a little bow to attest his bona fides. It was rather a pity that his smile unconsciously resembled that of a satyr; not, however, that it really mattered, for although the ever-observant Caroline duly noted it Miss Burden did not.
“It is twenty-five minutes past two, Lord Cheriton,” said Miss Perry, putting a sugar-plum in her mouth, “and you have promised to take me to the circus.”
“Cheriton,” said the old lady, “I forbid you to do anything of the kind. To spend three afternoons a week at a circus is outrageous.”