“Then what do you say to this?” said Lady Lushington. “That odious woman Priestley sends me a bill for one term’s clothing; total amount seventy pounds!”
“Seventy pounds,” said Annie, “for Mabel’s dress?” She pretended to look shocked. “It is impossible,” she said slowly. “There must be a mistake.”
“Of course there is a mistake. That abominable woman thinks that I am so rich that I don’t mind paying any amount. But she will learn that I am not to be imposed upon.”
“What do you think you will say to her?” asked Annie.
“I am sure I don’t know. I had best speak to Mabel herself.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” said Annie. “May gets so confused; dear May has no head for business; she won’t have the slightest idea what dress she did get. I know there was that lovely, expensive white satin for the school dance, and that beautiful dress of crêpe-de-Chine with pearly trimmings which she wore on the day of the break-up—the day when she received her great honour, her prize for literature; and there was that pale-blue evening-dress of hers, and the rose-coloured silk.”
“But I don’t remember those dresses at all. Where are they now?”
“I dare say she has left them at school,” said Annie.
“Left them at school?”
“She would probably not think them fine enough for you.”