“Then how does she get along, pray? Come! Come!”
“She has always worn long clothes,” cried the Prophet, boldly standing up for his beloved relative, “and always will. You can take that from me, Madame Sagittarius. I know my grandmother, and I am ready to pledge my honour to it.”
“Oh, very well. She must be a very remarkable lady. That’s all I can say. When did she put her hair up?”
“Never. She has never put it up.”
“She has never put her hair up!”
“No, never.”
“You mean to say that your grandmother goes about in long clothes with her hair down in the central districts?” cried Madame in blank amazement.
“She has never put her hair up,” answered the Prophet, with almost obstinate determination.
“Oh, well—if she prefers! But I wonder what the police are about!” retorted Madame. “And now the rashes?”
“There are none.”