she’s Venus, and I’m—here, somebody, who am I, tell us quick—did you say Minerva, Sybil dear? Well you ought, then! Now Paris, hurry up. He’s putting his Sunday clothes on to take us a walk—Laws, what a time it takes him! Get your blushes ready, Meg—now Lettie, look haughty, and I’ll look wise. I wonder if he wants me to go and tie his tie. Oh, Glory—where on earth did you get that anti-macassar?”
“In Nottingham—don’t you like it?” said George referring to his tie. “Hello, Lettie—have you come?”
“Yes, it’s a gathering of the goddesses. Have you that apple? If so, hand it over,” said Alice.
“What apple?”
“Oh, Lum, his education! Paris’s apple—Can’t you see we’ve come to be chosen?”
“Oh, well—I haven’t got any apple—I’ve eaten mine.”
“Isn’t he flat—he’s like boiling magnesia that’s done boiling for a week. Are you going to take us all to church then?”
“If you like.”
“Come on, then. Where’s the Abode of Love? Look at Lettie looking shocked. Awfully sorry, old girl—thought love agreed with you.”
“Did you say love?” inquired George.
“Yes, I did; didn’t I, Meg? And you say ‘Love’ as well, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what it is,” laughed Meg, who was very red and rather bewildered.
“ ‘Amor est titillatio’—‘Love is a tickling,’—there—that’s it, isn’t it, Sybil?”
