Caroline paused. She did not like to give up her argument. “It’s so very low-lived to get up with the sun. I don’t think real ladies ever do it.”
“You think ‘real ladies’ wait until the sun has been up a few hours and warmed the earth for them?”
“Y—es,” said Caroline. But it was not spoken very readily, for she had a suspicion that Miss Channing was laughing at her.
“May I ask where you have acquired your notions of ‘real ladies,’ Caroline?”
Caroline pouted. “Don’t you call Colonel Jolliffe’s daughters ladies, Miss Channing?”
“Yes—in position.”
“That’s where we went yesterday, you know. Mary Jolliffe says she never gets up until half-past eight, and that it is not lady-like to get up earlier. Real ladies don’t, Miss Channing.”
“My dear, shall I relate to you an anecdote that I have heard?”
“Oh, yes!” replied Caroline, her listless mood changing to animation; anecdotes, or anything of that desultory kind, being far more acceptable to the young lady than lessons.
“Before I begin, will you tell me whether you condescend to admit that our good Queen is a ‘real lady’?”