“A good friend at a pinch,” said Jack. And so these foolish people rattled on, and by and by Mrs. Lyndsay said:
“Rose, you have not told us anything about Mrs. Maybrook and those poor Colketts. I did not ask you last night, you were so sleepy.”
“Don’t ask me now,” said Rose. “I never saw such a horrible creature as that woman.”
“But her child is dead!” said Mrs. Lyndsay, with gentle inconsequence.
“I think her altogether hateful,” insisted Rose.
“Altogether hateful?” cried Anne. “I like these complete natures. It must simplify things in life so satisfactorily. Amiability would become so useless an effort. To be altogether and hopelessly aside from the possibilities of affection or respect might save a deal of moral exertion.”
“I don’t think I understand,” said Mrs. Lyndsay; “or, if I do, I am very sure that it isn’t a nice thing to say. “Wouldn’t it be as simple and better to be altogether lovable?”
“No, no,” cried Anne; “you have tried that, and does it really pay, dear?” Margaret was a trifle uncertain as to the compliment, and Anne, much delighted at her game of what she called mental cat’s-cradle, was about to go on, when Pierre came in.
“Ah, here is the mail,” said Lyndsay, and emptied out the bag on a side-table.
“I have been yearning for a newspaper,” said Anne.