Miss Mapp’s face froze into immobility again, for here, trundling swiftly towards her, was Diva herself.
Diva appeared not to see her till she got quite close.
“Morning, Elizabeth,” she said. “Seen my Janet anywhere?”
“No,” said Miss Mapp.
Janet (no doubt according to instructions received) popped out of a shop, and came towards her mistress.
“Here she is,” said Diva. “All right, Janet. You can go home. I’ll see to the other things.”
“It’s a lovely day,” said Miss Mapp, beginning to lash her tail. “So bright.”
“Yes. Pretty trimming of poppies,” said Diva. “Janet’s got rosebuds.”
This was too much.
“Diva, I didn’t think it of you,” said Miss Mapp in a shaking voice. “You saw my new frock yesterday, and you were filled with malice and envy, Diva, just because I had thought of using flowers off an old chintz as well as you, and came out first with it. You had meant to wear that purple frock yourself—though I must say it fits Janet perfectly—and just because I was first in the field you did this. You gave Janet that frock, so that I should be dressed in the same style as your parlourmaid, and you’ve got a black heart, Diva!”
“That’s nonsense,” said Diva firmly. “Heart’s as red as anybody’s, and talking of black hearts doesn’t become you, Elizabeth. You knew I was cutting out roses from my curtains—”
Miss Mapp laughed shrilly.
“Well, if I happen to notice that you’ve taken your chintz curtains down,” she said with an awful distinctness that showed the wisdom-teeth of which Diva had got
