“Pooh!” Beela was bored. “I’ve seen her. She looked a fright in those clothes. Trying to ape Annabel! She ought to have better sense. I know you were disgusted.”
“Beelo!”
“Don’t talk! I know.”
“You are tired and cross this morning, lad.”
She flopped into a chair, very glum. “Women are such fools!” she grumbled.
“Now I am grieved to learn that Lentala is not a woman, for she could never be a fool.”
Beela looked at me with sad reproach, and shook her head.
“Just now,” I went on, “she was a rich red rose sparkling with morning dew. Her smile started all the birds to singing. She——”
“Choseph!” She stamped the floor, much as Lentala had done, but a smile fringed her frown. “You know she made a fright of herself trying to look like Annabel,—and with that ugly brown face!”
“No, no, Beelo. The only trouble was that Lentala is too modest to realize how splendidly perfect she is as Lentala.”