“I don’t know, in the first place, what ‘the whole thing’ is,” said Trixie, sulkily. “But if I’m not to do as I propose, what am I to do? Remember, I must behave decently, or father will be down on me in hot earnest. There’s a limit to his patience, especially if he began to think I had been humbugging him this morning.”
“Of course you must behave decently, and more than decently,” said Mabella. “You must look rather snubbed, if you can manage it; and if I tease you a little, you must bear it in a good-girl sort of way, as if you were turning over a new leaf, and it was too bad of me to make it harder for you. Oh, I could do it to perfection! I only wish I could be you and myself too.”
“But I don’t see that that style of thing will attract Miss What’s-her-name to me,” objected Trixie.
“Oh, you can come round her if you try. Confide in her that you’ve been very self-willed, and wild, and rackety, but that you see the error of your ways, and would like to make a friend of her. I’ll give you a helping hand when I can. I’ll hint that Florence is rather down on you—that you’re not a bad sort after all. You can take them all in if you like. Major Winchester will be quite hoodwinked—it will be delicious.”
Trixie’s face cleared.
“I must say you’re not a bad ally, Mab, when you give your mind to it,” she said. “But I wish I knew what it is you’re planning.”
“Wait a bit,” said Miss Forsyth. “It’s first-rate—I can tell you that much.”