CHAPTER XII
SARAH MAKES AN IMPRESSION
"What a shame!" said Flossie, when she heard of the invitation. "Just like the nasty old thing, to remember an accident that I couldn't help. Not that I care! I shall enjoy myself far better at home"; and Flossie caught hold of Minnie's arm, and stalked along the Parade as if she cared so little that she did not want to hear any more about that great lady, her Aunt George.
"What did you think of her?" May asked of Sarah.
"Is she very ill?" Sarah asked, thinking of the bath-chair and her aunt's languid wrists and tones.
"Ill?--no! Ma says she's a hy-po-chon-driac," returned May, pronouncing the long word in syllables. "That's fancying yourself ill when you ain't. See? But all the same, Aunt George is very stylish."
"She's not half so nice as Auntie," Sarah flashed out.
"No, she isn't! But she's a great deal stylisher than Ma is," May returned. "Didn't you hear the way she told the man to go on? 'Go-on-Chawles!'" and May leant back on the seat, slightly waved a languid hand, flickered her drooping eyelids, and gave a half-languid, half-supercilious smile.
It was a fine imitation of Mrs. George's stylish airs, and Sarah was lost in admiration of it.
"I wonder," she remarked presently, after thinking the question over, "I wonder if she eats her dinner like that; because, if she does, it must generally get cold before she has half finished it."