Clara went off to the house to inform her sisters of what was happening. Penelope had gone to bed.
“Why, where is Pen?” she said.
“I don’t know; she seems to be sulky, and she said she had a headache. She’ll sleep it off; don’t bother about her,” said Annie, with a yawn.
The elder sister sat down and divulged to the younger ones what was about to happen.
“We’ve got,” she said, “rather to drop the Aldworths—they’re all very well in their way, but with the exception of Marcia, father doesn’t want us to see too much of them.”
“I’m heartily glad,” said Mabel; “I’m about sick of them.”
“I call it beastly meant—” said Jim, raising his face from where he was apparently buried in the pages of a magazine.
“Hullo!” cried Clara. “You there? What are you listening to us for?”
“Well, I don’t care—I call it beastly mean to drop people when you have once taken them up so strongly, more particularly when you have achieved your object.”
“And pray what’s that?”