"Why? My dear! Just fancy--gentlemen where you sleep and dress! Mabel would not dream of doing such a thing--and I do hope she'll never hear you are in that kind of a house. She'd be sure to pass remarks." "Lady Garribardine is over sixty years old, Tild! Don't you think you are being rather funny?" and Katherine wondered why she had never noticed before that Matilda was totally devoid of all sense of humour. And then she realised that the conception was new even to herself, and must have come from her book reading, though she was conscious that it was a gift that she had always enjoyed. No one had spoken of the "senses of humour" in their home circle, and Matilda would not have understood what it meant or whether she did or did not possess it! Things were things to Matilda, and had not different aspects, and for a lady to receive gentlemen in her bedroom if she were even over sixty years old and suffering from rheumatism was not proper conduct, and would earn the disapproval of Mabel Cawber and, indeed, of refined and select Bindon's Green in general. "I don't see that age makes a difference; it's the idea of tea in a bedroom, dearie--with gentlemen!" "But what do you think they would do to her, Tild?" Katherine with difficulty hid her smile. "Oh! my! what dreadful things you do say, Katherine!" Matilda blushed. "Why, it's the awkwardness of it for them--I'm wondering whatever Fred and Bert and Charlie Prodgers would feel if Mabel had them up to hers of a Sunday, supposing she had a cold--and what _would_ anyone say!" "Yes, I am sure Bindon's Green would talk its head off, and Fred and Bert and Charlie Prodgers would be awfully uncomfortable and get every sort of extraordinary idea into their heads, and if a person like Mabel did do such a thing, as to have them up there, she would be fidgety herself--or she would be really fast and intend them to go ahead. But Lady Garribardine is always quite sure of herself, and her friends are, too, and they don't have to consider convention--they are really gentlemen, you see, and not worried at all as to what others think or say, and it seems quite natural to them to come up and see an old rheumatic lady anywhere they want to see her. That is just the difference in the class, Tild--the upper are perfectly real, and don't pretend anything, and aren't uncomfortable in doing natural things." Matilda was still disapproving, and at once became antagonistic when her sister made reflections upon class. "I call it very queer, anyway," she sniffed. "And wherever do they find room to sit--in a bedroom, dearie?"