"But the truth about what? Rotha is just what she used to be."
"Not changed except in inches?"
"Inches! Feet!—" said Antoinette. "We don't think about inches when we look at her. I don't know about anything else. If you want an account of her studies you must ask somebody at school."
"Her teacher was yours?"
"O yes. Lately, you know, we were both in the upper class; and of course we were together in Mrs. Mowbray's lessons; but then in other things we were apart."
"How was that?"
"Studied different things," said Antoinette shortly. "Had different masters. I can't tell you about Rotha's lessons, if you want to know that." She was pulling off her gloves as she spoke, and tugged at them with an appearance of vexation, which might be due to their excellent fit and consequent difficulty of removal.
"Has she proved herself a pleasant inmate of the family?"
"She has been rather an inmate of Mrs. Mowbray's family," said Antoinette. "Mrs. Mowbray has swallowed her up and carried her off from us. We don't see much of her."
"Antoinette," said her mother here, "Mr. Southwode wants to know Rotha's address; and I cannot give him the name of the place. Can you help me recollect it?"