"No. At least—"
"At least what?"
Rotha had no skill whatever in prevarication, nor understood the art.
Nothing occurred to her but to tell the truth.
"Mrs. Mowbray said a thing was more graceful that was done promptly."
The slightest possible change in the set of Mrs. Busby's lips, the least perceptible air of her head, expressed what another woman might have told by a snort of disdain. Mrs. Busby's manner was quite as striking, Rotha thought. Her own anger was rising fast.
"O, and I suppose she is teaching you to do things gracefully?" said
Antoinette. "Mamma, the idea!"
"It did not occur to her or you that I might like to see my niece occasionally?" said Mrs. Busby.
Rotha bit her lips and succeeded in biting down the answer.
"We have not grown very graceful yet," Antoinette went on. "It is usually thought civilized to answer people."
"You had better take off your things," Mrs. Busby said. "You may lay them up stairs in your room."