“Well, tell it, you little geese,” said Fanchon, “and have done with it.”
“Indeed we won’t,” said Nina, “not unless you tell us yours.”
“But I haven’t a secret,” said Fanchon.
“You haven’t? Oh, what awful lies you tell! I’d be ashamed if I were you!” said Nina.
“Well, well—if I have—I can’t tell it,” said Fanchon, colouring.
“You can’t?” said Josephine—“not to your own, own sisters? You might—you know.”
Fanchon would not for worlds betray Brenda, either as regarded her introduction of Joe Burbery, or the fact that she had taken her to a play—for dearest papa did not approve of plays. But she would have liked her sisters, in secret, in absolute secret, to behold the lovely bangle.
“I can’t tell my secret,” she said. “I have one—just a little one—but I can’t, because I have promised.”
“Then we can’t tell you ours,” said Nina. “And our secret is lovely! Isn’t it, Joey?”
“Oh, ripping!” said Joey. “It’s just golloptious! Won’t you be jealous, though? You’ll want to wear one of them sometimes.”