“Swollen?” enquired Mrs. Church, anxiously.
“Swelled right out of shape,” exclaimed Captain Barber, impressively; “like pillars almost they are.”
“Poor thing,” said Mrs. Church, in a voice which made Mrs. Banks itch to slap her. “I knew a lady once just the same, but she was a drinking woman.”
Again Mrs. Banks at a loss for words, looked at her daughter for assistance.
“Dear me, how dreadful it must be to know such people,” said Mrs. Banks, shivering.
“Yes,” sighed the other. “It used to make me feel sorry for her—they were utterly shapeless, you know. Horrid!”
“That’s how Mrs. Banks’ are,” said the Captain, nodding sagely. “You look ’ot, Mrs. Banks. Shall I open the winder a bit?”
“I’ll thank you not to talk about me like that, Captain Barber,” said Mrs. Banks, the flowers on her hat trembling.
“As you please, ma’am,” said Captain Barber, with a stateliness which deserved a better subject. “I was only repeating what Dr. Hodder told me in your presence.”
Mrs. Banks made no reply, but created a diversion by passing her cup up for more tea; her feelings, when Mrs. Church took off the lid of the teapot and poured in about a pint of water before helping her, belonging to that kind known as in-describable.