Josiah nodded graciously. “Do as you like, gel.”
Sally produced a wisp of paper and a very masculine tobacco pouch and began rolling a cigarette in an extremely competent manner. Josiah proffered a box of Egyptian but Sally preferred her own and struck a match on the sole of her shoe in a fashion at once so accomplished and so boylike as to take away the breath of her mother and Aunt Gerty.
As she sat talking easily and yet gravely to the Corporal with her long straight legs and trim ankles freely displayed by a surprisingly short khaki skirt she looked more like a boy than ever. And such was the thought in the minds of the other three ladies, who agreed tacitly that the skirt and the cigarette and the astonishing freedom of pose were not quite maidenly. Still with those ribbons, and that clear deep voice and that wonderful eye she was fascinating. Even her father, who on principle declined to admire her Damnable Independence, was unable to resist the impact of a personality that was now world famous.
Gazing at her in stern astonishment he pointed to her abbreviated lower garment. “Excuse me, gel,” he said, “but do you mind telling us what you’ve got underneath?”
Sally deigned no reply in words, but stuck the cigarette in the corner of her mouth with unconscious grace and dexterously lifted her skirt. A decidedly workmanlike pair of knickerbockers was disclosed.
Josiah gasped.
The unconcerned Sally continued to talk with the Corporal, while the Mayor, half scandalized, struggled against a guffaw. “Things seem to be changing a bit, as you might say. Don’t you think so, Mother?”
Aunt Gerty took upon herself to answer, as she often did, for poor bewildered Maria. “I fully agree, Josiah.” She lowered her discreet voice. “But almost a pity ... almost a pity ... don’t you think?”
The Mayor pursed his lips. “Durned if I know what to think, Gert.” He scratched a dubious head. “Seems to me the Empire is not going to be short o’ man power for some little time to come, eh?”