“It was simply a very stupid effort to be funny,” returned Margaret. “Sometimes women will laugh because they are expected to, and they did that afternoon. Everything was simply cut and dried. It always is at Mrs. George B. Slade's. I never knew a woman so absolutely destitute of originality.”
Annie looked helplessly at Margaret. She could say no more unless she contradicted. Margaret continued. She felt that she could no longer conceal her own annoyance, and she was glad of this adoring audience of one.
“I had planned something myself for the next meeting, something which has never been done,” said she, “something new, and stimulating.”
“Oh, how lovely!” cried Annie.
“But of course, like all really clever plans for the real good and progress of a club like ours, something has to come up to prevent,” said Margaret.
“Oh, what?”
“Well, I had planned to have Lydia Greenway, you know she is really a great artist, come to the next meeting and give dramatic recitations.”
“Oh, would she?” gasped Annie Eustace.
“Of course, it would have meant a large pecuniary outlay,” said Margaret, “but I was prepared, quite prepared, to make some sacrifices for the good of the club, but, why, you must have read it in the papers, Annie.”
Annie looked guiltily ignorant.