“Am I? That doesn’t matter,” said Fanchon. “Tell me, Brenda, how you enjoyed yourself. Was it quite as wonderful as you expected?”
“Oh, quite, quite,” said Brenda, who had no idea but of making the very best of things to her pupil.
“It was really worth your pale blue silk dress and your serge coat, and your hat, and your gloves, and your new parasol?” pursued Fanchon.
“I wish, Fanchon,” said the governess, “that you would not give me an inventory of my clothes whenever you speak to me. I suppose I must be dressed like other people, mustn’t I?”
“Of course,” said Fanchon. “Well, let us leave the dress alone. How did you get on with your sister? was she as nice as that dead-and-gone body—whatever her name is?”
“Oh, she was wonderful!” said Brenda, with real enthusiasm. “She has a real gift for acting, there’s no doubt of that.”
“I suppose you’ll tell us about it sometime, won’t you?”
“I am telling you now—what do you mean by sometime?”
“I mean,” said Fanchon, “that Nina and Joey and I want all the particulars, not just a few bare facts, but every little tiny incident made as full as possible; and in especial, we are anxious to know if you met any he’s, and if you did meet one special he; and in that case, what he said to you, and what you said to him—a sort of ‘consequence’ game, you understand. And in particular, we want to learn the compliments he paid you; for some day, when we three are dressed like you in pale blue silk, etc, we may have similar compliments ourselves. That is what we want to know.”
“What is the matter with you, Fanchon?” said her governess.