Miss Roots' face relaxed, and her fatigued intelligence awoke.
"Who's on in it?" asked Flossie, happy and unconscious; and the spirit of mischief seized upon Miss Roots.
"I can't tell you. I'm not well posted in these things. But I think you'd better not ask Mr. Rickman to take you to see Metropolis."
Flossie was mystified, and a little indignant. If the play was so improper, why had Miss Roots taken for granted that she had seen it?
"That wasn't at all nice of her, was it?" said Lucia, smiling as Miss Roots went away. Her look was a healing touch laid on Flossie's wounded vanity. "That's the sort of little trap she used to lay for me."
"I suppose you mean she was rotting me. I always know when other people are rotting. But that's the worst of her; you never can tell, and she makes you look so ignorant, doesn't she?"
"She makes me feel ignorant, but that's another thing."
"But whatever did she mean just now?"
"Just now she meant that you knew all about Metropolis."
"Why should I? Do you know anything about it?"