"But I'm not a boy!"
"That doesn't matter a straw. Look at Elizabeth; she's not a boy, but she didn't let her brain get fuggy; though," he added reflectively, "I'm not so sure of her now as I was before she came here."
"Why not?" said Joan; she liked talking about Elizabeth.
"Oh, just Seabourne, it's a bottling place. If Elizabeth don't look out she'll be bottled next!"
At that moment Elizabeth came in. "We were talking about you," said Joan, but Elizabeth was dreadfully incurious.
"Your mother is waiting; it's time to go," was all she said.
3
In the fly on the way home the silence was oppressive. Mrs. Ogden seemed to be suffering, she looked wilted. "What is it, darling?" Joan inquired. She had enjoyed herself, and now somehow it was spoilt. She had hoped that her mother was enjoying herself too.
Mrs. Ogden leant towards her and took her hand. "My dear little girl," she murmured, "have you been happy, Joan?"
"Yes, very; haven't you, Mother?"