"Addie, that means a ball, doesn't it? How delightful! You're going, of course?"
"I suppose so. Mr. Armstrong wishes it."
"And you'll wear your white broché and pearls. Oh, isn't it well for you?" groans Pauline wistfully. "Miss Lefroy—that's me, of course. It was nice of them to ask me, wasn't it, Addie?"
"Yes. I suppose they did not know you were still in the school-room, Polly."
"I'm past seventeen, and eldest daughter now that you're married and done for, Addie, and I do think it's hard lines keeping me down."
"If Mr. Armstrong wishes to give you the advantage of education, no matter how late, I think you ought to be extremely grateful to him, instead of grumbling as you continually do," says Mrs. Armstrong severely.
"You're so remarkably well educated yourself, Addie," retorts Pauline, "you can well afford to preach. Didn't you see how Tom stared the other night when you asked him which would take longest, to go to New York or Calcutta? I'm sure, if he keeps me in the school-room, he ought to keep you too. 'Lady Portrann at home, 10 P.M. Dancing.' How lovely it sounds! How I wish I could go, just to see what it would be like! I wouldn't dance, you know, Addie, or wear a silk dress, or anything in that way, but just sit in a corner and look on quietly; and—and don't you think, if you put it to your husband mildly like, that he might—might—"
"I think nothing in the matter, my dear," answers Addie decisively; "and I'll put nothing to my husband, mildly or otherwise; so it's of no use asking me."
"Don't then!"
"I won't."