Part 9 (2/2)

MRS. ALL. (_with dignity_). I didn't say I always went to Margate. On the contrary, I have never been here before, and shouldn't be here now, if my doctor hadn't told me it was my only chance.

MRS. ARD. (_rea.s.sured_). I only came down here on my little girl's account. One of those nasty croupy coughs, you know, and hoops with it.

But she's almost well already. I will say it's a wonderful air. Still, the worst of Margate is, one isn't likely to meet a soul one knows!

MRS. ALL. Well, that's the charm of it--to me. One has enough of that during the Season.

MRS. ARD. (_recognising the superiority of this view_). Indeed one has.

What a whirl it has been to be sure!

MRS. ALL. The Season? Why, I never remember one with so little doing.

Most of the best houses closed--hardly a single really smart party--one or two weddings--and that's positively all!

MRS. ARD. (_slightly crushed, in spite of a conviction_ _that--socially speaking--Balham has been rather more brilliant than usual this year_).

Yes, that's very true. I suppose the Elections have put a stop to most things?

MRS. ALL. There never was much going on. _I_ should rather have said it was Marlborough House being shut up that made everything so dull from the first.

MRS. ARD. Ah, that _does_ make such a difference, doesn't it? (_She feels she must make an effort to recover lost ground._) I fully expected to be at Homburg this year.

MRS. ALL. Then you would have met Lady Neuraline Menthol. She _was_ ordered there, I happen to know.

MRS. ARD. Really, you don't say so? Lady Neuraline! Well, that's the first _I've_ heard of it. (_It is also the first time she has heard of her, but she trusts to be spared so humiliating an admission._)

MRS. ALL. It's a fact, I can a.s.sure you. You know her, perhaps?

MRS. ARD. (_who would dearly like to say she does, if she only dared_).

Well, I can hardly say I exactly _know_ her. I know _of_ her. I've met her about, and so on. (_She tells herself this is quite as likely to be true as not._)

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Dear, dear! _not_ a county family!”]

MRS. ALL. (_who of course does not know Lady Neuraline either_). Ah, she is a most delightful person--requires _knowing_, don't you know.

MRS. ARD. So many in her position do, don't they? (_So far as she is concerned--they all do._) You'd think it was haughtiness--but it's really only _manner_.

MRS. ALL. (_feeling that she can go ahead with safety now_). I have never found anything of _that_ sort in Lady Neuraline myself (_which is perfectly true._) She's rather odd and flighty, but _quite_ a dear. By the way, _how_ sad it is about those poor dear Chutneys--the Countess, don't you know!

MRS. ARD. Ah (_as if she knew all the rest of the family_), I don't know _her_ at all.

MRS. ALL. Such a sweet woman--but the trouble she's had with her eldest boy, Lord Mango! He married quite beneath him, you know, some girl from the provinces--not a county-family girl even.

MRS. ARD. (_shocked_). Dear, dear! _not_ a county family!

MRS. ALL. No; somebody quite common--I forget the name, but it was either Gherkin or Onion, or something of that sort. I was told they had been in Chili a good while. Poor Mango never had much taste, or he would never have got mixed up with such a set. Anyway, he's got himself into a terrible pickle. I hear Capsic.u.ms is actually to be sold to pay his debts.

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