‘Of course I do,’ replied the girl, who could not help smiling, as indeed did all the spectators.
‘But you shouldn’t—oh, really, you shouldn’t, dear lady! You said “bending,” and “reaping,” and “singing.” We heard you distinctly “thrilling” also.’
‘Of course I did; and why not?’ the girl answered, with a distinctly bellicose air—looking indeed as if she was likely to confirm Vanda’s assertion of the possession of an unexpected temper. ‘We were taught that dropping the “g” was next door to the unforgivable sin of dropping the “h.”’
‘But it’s not good form, dear Miss Banneret, to sound the final “g.” Nobody does it—that is, nobody that is anybody. The other way is old-fashioned.’
‘I don’t care,’ retorted the valiant Hermione; ‘our Australian way is good English, and that I’ll abide by. The other is an affectation, a senseless departure, copied by silly people who believe it to be fashionable—like “dwopping” the “r.”’
[391]
]‘Assure you, it’s nevah done now,’ said her critical reviewer; ‘though I think I must “pwactise,” if only to take a “wise” out of you and Miss Vanda.’
‘We shall have to arrange an ambush for you to fall into,’ replied Hermione, laughing good-humouredly. ‘We are willing to mend our ways in minor matters when we think we are wrong, but not merely to copy English fashions because they are English, which would be affectation indeed, and very properly expose us to ridicule.’
‘Nothing that you or Miss Vanda could say or do would end so disastrously. I hope you believe me,’ he added in a lower tone, ‘and forgive my imprudence?’
‘I grant you my royal pardon,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I confess that we Australians are just a trifle touchy, and I began to be frightened that I had committed some enormity.’
. . . . . . . . .