“What is that, my dear Robina? Don’t put your elbow on the table; it is so unladylike; and I wish, my dear, you would not have that habit of opening your mouth when you are not speaking. You ought to say the old phrase, ‘Papa, potatoes, prunes and prism’ constantly to yourself. There is nothing for keeping the mouth in a nice shape like uttering the word ‘prism.’”
“I can’t, really, Aunt Felice. I am not made that way,” said Robina. “I can’t be worried about my mouth.”
“There you are,” said Aunt Felice, “always so headstrong, rough, and disagreeable. Now, don’t frown! It really makes you look like a fright. Your poor mother quite dreads the thought of having you in the house; you are so undisciplined and wayward.”
“I was thought quite a good girl at school,” said Robina.
“Then that was because none of them really knew you.”
“I think they knew me very well. You have to be your real self at school, Aunt Felice.”
“Then may I ask, miss, if that is the case, why you are not your real self at home?”
“I am afraid I have got two selves, and I am my worst self at home, because I am rubbed the wrong way.”
“Indeed!” said Miss Jennings. “That is nice hearing. And who rubs you the wrong way?”
“I know you will be very angry with me, Aunt Felicia; but you do.”