“I am so glad it has been filled,” cried another cousin. “It was so awkward, so dangerous. You see”—addressing herself to Pamela—“it was just under the drawing-room window, and a lady might so easily have fallen out. What a terrible thing it would be for a lady to fall out of her own drawing-room window—into a moat!”
“When ladies have a tendency that way they should sign the pledge,” said Mrs. Clutton tersely.
Nancy, meeting her mother’s diplomatic eye, rushed into the breach:
“Have you heard about the nice butcher boy?”
“That boy at Churnside’s?”
“Yes. He has stolen ten pounds. They have arrested him.”
“Dishonesty on a small scale never pays,” said Mrs. Clutton. “Honesty is really the best policy—now that we have such an excellent police force.”
She was putting on her gloves, and they looked at each other with secret satisfaction. She seemed anxious to go. She looked as if the double row of placid faces irritated her. Mrs. Turle and Nancy kissed her. The former said:
“Come in again soon; we see so little of you. And take a tonic, dear—you’re really looking run down.”
“What a vulgar person!” said Maria Furlonger, when the place was clear of her.