It had also come to be almost a tradition that
two ladies should be amiable, and that the other two should be Mrs. Dole
and Mrs. Hatch-Mallard.
"What a singularly unbecoming way Eva Jonelet has taken to doing her hair
in," said Mrs. Hatch-Mallard; "it's ugly hair at the best of times, but
she needn't make it look ridiculous as well. Some one ought to tell
her."
Eva Jonelet's hair might have escaped Mrs. Hatch-Mallard's condemnation
if she could have forgotten the more glaring fact that Eva was Mrs.
Dole's favourite niece. It would, perhaps, have been a more comfortable
arrangement if Mrs. Hatch-Mallard and Mrs. Dole could have been asked to
the Rectory on separate occasions, but there was only one garden party in
the course of the year, and neither lady could have been omitted from the
list of invitations without hopelessly wrecking the social peace of the
parish.
"How pretty the yew trees look at this time of year," interposed a lady
with a soft, silvery voice that suggested a chinchilla muff painted by
Whistler.
"What do you mean by this time of year?" demanded Mrs. Hatch-Mallard.
"Yew trees look beautiful at all times of the year. That is their great
charm.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163