“What a wicked untruth!” rejoined Mrs. Webster. “Didn’t I see the bright side of Dan’s disappointment?”
“Oh, that!” replied her sister scornfully.
“And now I suppose we shall have Dan moping about the place making everybody miserable. I have no patience with that kind of thing. People ought to consume their own smoke. I am sure this horrible November weather gets into my joints most distressingly. If Dan had not gone in for Art, he might have had enough money by now for me to winter in the South of France. There is an awful draught from that window when the door is open, and Mary Ann leaves it open every time she comes in.”
“It wants a new lock,” said Miss Linkin. “Dan says I can have it seen to.”
“I think, considering my health, it might have been seen to before,” Mrs. Webster complained, “and my chair is just opposite the door.”
“Well, why not have your chair moved to the other side?” inquired Miss Linkin, not unnaturally.
“I am used to this side of the fireplace,” said Mrs. Webster. “People at my time of life don’t like changes. I want to go to the South of France.”
“You just said you didn’t like changes,” her sister reminded her.
“That has nothing at all to do with it,” replied Mrs. Webster conclusively.
Miss Linkin sniffed.