"Slender," she corrected.
"Thin," he repeated. "Thin as a crane--a mere shadow of a girl--and,
what is more deplorable, apparently indifferent to the sorrow that you
are causing those most interested in your welfare."
"I am not indifferent, father. If, merely by wishing, I could be fat, I
would make myself the shape of the French balloon that floated over
Morovenia last week. I would be so roly-poly that, when it came time for
me to go and meet our guests this afternoon, I would roll into their
presence as if I were a tennis-ball."
"Why should you know anything about tennis-balls? You, of all the young
women in Morovenia, seem to be the only one with a fondness for
athletics. I have heard that in Great Britain, where the women ride and
play rude, manly games, there has been developed a breed as hard as
flint--Allah preserve me from such women!"
"Father, you are leading up to something. What is it you wish to say?"
"This. You have persistently disobeyed me and made me very unhappy, but
to-day I must ask you to respect my wishes. Do not proclaim to our
guests the sad truth regarding your deficiency."
"Good!" she exclaimed gaily. "I shall wear a robe the size of an Arabian
tent, and I shall surround myself with soft pillows, and I shall wheeze
when I breathe and--who knows?--perhaps some dark-eyed young man worth a
million piasters will be deceived, and will come to you to-morrow, and
buy me--buy me at so much a pound.
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