“Are you so sorry that they have all left us?” returned the other, smiling and coming back from the realms of fancy.
“I'm sure I am,” said Fan, looking up from her book. “It was so delightful to have them with us at this distance from London.”
“But why at this distance from London?” objected Mary. “According to that, our pleasure would have been greater if we had met them at the Canary Islands, and greater still at Honolulu or some spot in Tasmania. Imagine what it would be to meet them in one of the planets; but if the meeting were to take place in the furthest fixed star the delight would be almost too much for us. At that distance, Sidmouth would seem little further from London than Richmond or Croydon.”
Fan bent her eyes resolutely on her book.
“You have not yet answered my question, Mary,” said Constance.
“Nor you mine, which has the right of priority. But I am not a stickler for my rights. Listen, both of you, to a confession. I don't feel sorry at being left alone with you two, much as I have been amused, especially by Arthur, who has a merrier soul than his demure little sister.”
“Why will you call me little, Mary? I am five feet six inches and a half, and Arthur says that's as tall as a woman ought to be.”
“A sneer at me because I am two inches taller! What other disparaging things did he say, I wonder?”
“You don't say that seriously, Mary—you are so seldom serious about anything! You know, I dare say, that he is always praising you.”
“That's pleasant to hear. But what did he say—can't you remember something?”