“But what is the use of pretending to be cheerful? All the first part of the day, before I was too tired myself to care to listen, I used to hear Captain Wylie say to you, ‘Awf’ly fagged?’ and you conjured up a sprightly voice, and said, ‘Oh dear, no—hardly at all.’ It wasn’t true, and he knew it. What good did it do to pretend?”
“It was true,” said Zoe stoutly. “The mere fact of being asked the question made one feel less tired for the moment. And you do say the horridest things, Eirene.”
“She is like the old woman whose clergyman remonstrated with her for bearing her troubles so badly,” said Maurice. “The old lady told him that when chastening was sent us, it meant that we should be chastened, and she wasn’t going to pretend not to be.”
“Well,” said Wylie, rather tartly, “it has grown to be a sort of tradition, I suppose, among English people that each should keep up for the sake of the rest, and all I can say is that I hope it’ll go on. I don’t see the use of asking questions and speculating about it.”
“I am inquiring into national character,” said Eirene, undaunted. “The people I know, when they are asked if they are in trouble, acknowledge it at once, and point out what a dreadful trouble it is, and how no one was ever quite so sorely tried before——”
“And turn it round and inside out, and hold it up to catch the light,” put in Zoe.
“But if you ask an Englishman, he looks down at you as if he was a mile high, and says with an icy smile, ‘Not at all. Rather enjoy it than otherwise!’” with a very fair imitation of Wylie’s displeased manner.
“How awfully smart you are this evening, Eirene!” drawled Maurice. “Hairbreadth escapes seem to sharpen your wits. But I think it’s about time all good little girls were in bed.”
“I could talk all night when I am interested,” persisted Eirene.
“I haven’t the very faintest, slightest shadow of doubt of it. But Zoe is half-asleep, and Wylie is nodding, and my eyes would shut of themselves if they were not fixed on your speaking countenance. Hullo, what’s up?”