She looked perplexed and annoyed.
"But she told me she was coming. She heard that you were confined to the house."
"She's not been," I said. "I am sorry. I suppose she always leads the way in the question of calling upon new people. But you needn't feel you have committed yourself. You see, I shan't be able to return your call, so please don't feel you must come again unless you want to."
"It's not that," she said; "but, you see, my days are so full."
"Of course they are," I agreed warmly. "I shall quite understand, Mrs. Cobbold. I'm so sorry Amelia is not here to show you out, but were I to ring the tortoise for ten minutes she wouldn't come. She is chopping wood—perhaps you hear her. Amelia never takes the slightest notice of anybody when she is chopping wood—they are Hudson's Dry Soap boxes—the more one rings the louder she chops."
"If she were my maid," said Mrs. Cobbold, "I'd make her——"
"No, you wouldn't," I interrupted. "You think you would, but you wouldn't. We thought the same when she first came to us, but now we don't. Good-bye."
Through an unfortunate accident the tortoise rang loudly as I spoke. I caught my sleeve in its tail, and it sounded as though I were cheering Mrs. Cobbold's departure. She left the house with a flounce and a flourish. We may meet again in another world, but I am certainly not on Mrs. Cobbold's visiting list in this.
When I heard the garden gate bang I rang for Amelia.
"I am never at home to that lady," I said.