"This is too coarse, aunt Serena," Rotha said after examining it.
"Too coarse for what?"
"To mend my stockings with."
"It is not too coarse to mend mine."
"But it would not go through the stitches of mine," said Rotha looking up. "It would tear every time."
"How in the world did you come to have such ridiculous stockings? Such stockings are expensive. I do not indulge myself with them; and I might, better than your mother."
"Poor people always think they must have things fine, I suppose," said Antoinette. "I wonder what sort of shoes she has, to go with the stockings?"
The blood flushed to Rotha's face; and irritation pricked her to retort sharply; yet she did not wish to speak Mr. Digby's name again. She hesitated.
"Whose nonsense was that?" asked Mrs. Busby; "yours, or your mother's? I never heard anything equal to it in my life. I dare say they are Balbriggans. I should not be at all surprised!"
"I do not know what they are," said Rotha, striving to hold in her wrath, "but they are not my mother's nonsense, nor mine."