"Oh, Constance!" said Fleda, burying her face in her hands.
But they all laughed.
"Fleda, my dear, I would box her ears," said Mrs. Evelyn, commanding herself. It is a mere envious insinuation I have always understood those were the most successful colours carried."
"Dear Mrs. Evelyn!"
"My dear Fleda, that is not a hot roll you shan't eat it take this. Florence, give her a piece of the bacon Fleda, my dear, it is good for the digestion you must try it. Constance was quite mistaken in supposing yours were those obnoxious colours there is too much white with the red it is more like a very different flag."
"Like what, then, Mamma!" said Constance; "a good American would have blue in it."
"You may keep the American yourself," said her mother.
"Only," said Fleda, trying to recover herself, "there is a slight irregularity; with you the stars are blue and the ground white."
"My dear little Fleda," exclaimed Constance, jumping up, and capering round the table to kiss her, "you are too delicious for anything; and in future I will be blind to your colours, which is a piece of self-denial I am sure nobody else will practise."
"Mamma," said Edith, "what are you all talking about? Can't
Constance sit down and let Fleda eat her breakfast?"
"Sit down, Constance, and eat your breakfast."