“That’s it,” agreed Mr Dyce cheerfully. “Some girls grow up and become credits to their parents and guardians, others become reciters, and spoil many a jolly party with ‘The Woman of Mumbles Head’ or ‘The Coffee was not Strong.’”
“I hope not,” said Miss Jean, not quite understanding: the painful possibility seemed to be too much for Miss Amelia; she said nothing, but fixed her eyes on the distant tree-tops and gave a little flap of the wings of her Inverness cape.
“Peas, peas!” murmured Mr Dyce unconsciously, anxious to hold them longer and talk about his niece.
“I beg pardon,” exclaimed Miss Jean, and the lawyer got very red. “I hope at least you’ll like Bud,” he said. “She’s odd, but—but—but—” he paused for a word.
“—sincere,” suggested Miss Jean.
“Yes, I would say sincere—or perhaps outspoken would be better,’ said Miss Amelia.
“So clever too,” added Miss Jean.
“Preternaturally!” cooed Miss Amelia.
“Such a delightful accent,” said Miss Jean.
“Like linkèd sweetness long drawn out,” quoted Miss Amelia.