Vocabularily Adventurous
from the mixed-up files of E. G. Morgan
A Chip of Glass | Prose
Mid-April, 2007
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"To Parliament? Whatever for?"
Mabel wrinkled her pretty brow and tugged her frothy shawl further up her shoulder, where it lingered for a second before falling back to the bend of her elbow. Her query was met with a cool silence, then:
"I have suddenly taken a very keen interest in politics, Mabel."
The young woman laughed at her terribly serious companion and replied, "I believe you must mean 'politicians,' Georgie."
Her friend raised her chin and refused to smile. "Not 'politicians,' Mabel. A politician."
"Ah yes," Mabel replied, her eyes bright with laughter. "I should have guessed. Lord Wakefield has become rather popular all of a sudden, has he not?"
"Harry Wakefield," Georgie replied haughtily, "is a god on earth. And I fully intend to become a goddess before the year is out."
Mabel grinned and picked a piece of lint from her otherwise spotless gloves. "It's Harry now, is it? I did not know the two of you were so well acquainted."
Her companion finally lowered her chin and sullenly replied, "We have not yet met. But that is a minor detail I am quite capable of correcting." Georgie tossed her head, coppery-brown ringlets leaping excitedly. Mabel sighed, but her breath caught in her throat when she happened to glance over Georgie's shoulder.
"Georgina," she muttered, "I believe you will have the chance to correct a few minor details momentarily."
The other girl froze, then turned gracefully just in time to bob a quick curtsey and smile unperturbedly. "Good morning, Lord Wakefield."
Mabel wrinkled her pretty brow and tugged her frothy shawl further up her shoulder, where it lingered for a second before falling back to the bend of her elbow. Her query was met with a cool silence, then:
"I have suddenly taken a very keen interest in politics, Mabel."
The young woman laughed at her terribly serious companion and replied, "I believe you must mean 'politicians,' Georgie."
Her friend raised her chin and refused to smile. "Not 'politicians,' Mabel. A politician."
"Ah yes," Mabel replied, her eyes bright with laughter. "I should have guessed. Lord Wakefield has become rather popular all of a sudden, has he not?"
"Harry Wakefield," Georgie replied haughtily, "is a god on earth. And I fully intend to become a goddess before the year is out."
Mabel grinned and picked a piece of lint from her otherwise spotless gloves. "It's Harry now, is it? I did not know the two of you were so well acquainted."
Her companion finally lowered her chin and sullenly replied, "We have not yet met. But that is a minor detail I am quite capable of correcting." Georgie tossed her head, coppery-brown ringlets leaping excitedly. Mabel sighed, but her breath caught in her throat when she happened to glance over Georgie's shoulder.
"Georgina," she muttered, "I believe you will have the chance to correct a few minor details momentarily."
The other girl froze, then turned gracefully just in time to bob a quick curtsey and smile unperturbedly. "Good morning, Lord Wakefield."
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