“Robina: this is really more than I can stand. You don’t speak in that impertinent way to me any more: you have no respect for those older and better than yourself, Robina. I don’t say for a moment that you have not your good points. You are a clever, strong, intelligent child, but you are too independent: that is what is the matter with you.”
Robina fidgetted.
“Don’t push your things about on your plate like that!” said Miss Felicia: “and oh! don’t kick me with your long legs under the table! You really are most objectionable in your manners—such a rough sort of girl.”
“Come, Auntie,” said Robina suddenly, “I have been thinking a lot of my return home. I have never been to school before, and these are my very first holidays, and anyhow, there is jolly good news—”
“Don’t say jolly! It is a most unladylike expression.”
“Oh, I must talk a little slang. I can’t be too proper. Besides, ‘jolly’ is accepted now as the most correct English. ‘Awfully jolly’ is a lovely phrase.”
“It is a misnomer, and abominable. Don’t ever say ‘awfully jolly’ in my presence.”
“I will try not to,” said Robina aloud. To herself, she whispered: “I won’t be tempted: things never are awfully jolly when she is about.”
“May I tell you the nice thing that has happened?” she said, after a pause.
“Don’t spill that jam, Robina. See, you are dropping the juice on the table-cloth. Now then, what is your news? I don’t suppose it is worth anything.”