"The band and everybody arriving. They'd hear us, mother; they're nearly
neighbours!"

To Laura's astonishment her mother behaved just like Jose; it was harder to
bear because she seemed amused. She refused to take Laura seriously.

"But, my dear child, use your common sense. It's only by accident we've
heard of it. If some one had died there normally--and I can't understand
how they keep alive in those poky little holes--we should still be having
our party, shouldn't we?"

Laura had to say "yes" to that, but she felt it was all wrong. She sat
down on her mother's sofa and pinched the cushion frill.

"Mother, isn't it terribly heartless of us?" she asked.

"Darling!" Mrs. Sheridan got up and came over to her, carrying the hat.
Before Laura could stop her she had popped it on. "My child!" said her
mother, "the hat is yours. It's made for you. It's much too young for me.
I have never seen you look such a picture. Look at yourself!" And she
held up her hand-mirror.

"But, mother," Laura began again. She couldn't look at herself; she turned
aside.

This time Mrs. Sheridan lost patience just as Jose had done.

"You are being very absurd, Laura," she said coldly. "People like that
don't expect sacrifices from us. And it's not very sympathetic to spoil
everybody's enjoyment as you're doing now."