"Why do you always move the footstool, Miss Clonmell?" she asked one day.
"Because the chairs are so tall and my legs are so short," Lallie answered.
"The chairs are of the usual height. Chairs are not nowadays manufactured for pigmies," Miss Foster said severely.
"Did they use to be?" Lallie demanded with interest.
"No one has ever complained of the chairs in this house before," Miss Foster continued, ignoring Lallie's question.
"I never complained of them, Miss Foster. They're very nice chairs as chairs go: a bit straight and stiff, perhaps, but quite endurable if one has a footstool. Tony has comfortable chairs in his room. I wonder how men always manage to get such comfortable chairs? It's the same at home; Dad has always the best of the chairs in his den, though I must say we have a good many that are pretty decent."
"The hearth does look so naked without that stool," Miss Foster lamented.
"I'll try to remember to put it back when I've done with it," Lallie said, with undiminished sweetness; "but I'm not very good at putting things back."
"That I have already observed, Miss Clonmell, and it is a pity. No untidy person has ever achieved real greatness."
"Are you sure, Miss Foster? That's rather a sweeping assertion."