Canon Spratte advanced very cordially and shook hands with her.
“How d’you do. How d’you do, Mrs. Railing.”
“Nicely, thank you.” She turned and gave a little wave of the hand toward her offspring. “This is my daughter, Miss Railing.”
Miss Railing wore a strenuous look and pince-nez, a sailor hat, a white blouse, and a leather belt.
“How d’you do,” said Canon Spratte.
“Quite well, thank you.”
Winnie, having passed the time of day with Mrs. Railing, looked shyly at Bertram’s sister.
“You weren’t in the other day when I came to Peckham with your brother.”
“I didn’t get home till late.”
Miss Railing, suffering from no false shame, looked at Winnie with a somewhat disparaging curiosity. She was highly educated and took care to speak the King’s English correctly. She dropped her aitches but seldom. Sometimes she hesitated whether or no to insert the troublesome letter, but when she used it her emphasis fully made up for an occasional lapse. She was, perhaps, a little self-assertive; and came to St. Gregory’s Vicarage as to an enemy’s camp, bristling to take offence. She was determined to show that she was a person of culture.