“I am Mrs Vanburgh!”
“Oh, indeed!” said Miss Beveridge coldly.
Why she should have taken the announcement as a personal insult the girls could not understand, but that she did receive it in such, a spirit was proved by the sudden stiffening which passed over her features even as she spoke. She seated herself on the edge of the chair to which Nan escorted her, sternly refused an offer of tea, and vouchsafed only monosyllabic replies when spoken to. It was a terrible occasion! Nan took refuge in the resort of the destitute, and exhausted the subject of the weather in all its branches.
“It is a very chilly afternoon.”
“Very chilly.”
“It seemed in the morning as if it were going to clear up.”
“It did.”
“The forecast says it will rain before night.”
“Indeed!”
“November always is a dreary month.”