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Updated: May 4, 2025
Latude-Fernay?" The word sugar would stir the mind of Mrs. Mackridge. "They say," she would begin, issuing her proclamation at least half her sentences began "they say" "sugar is fatt-an-ing, nowadays. Many of the best people do not take it at all." "Not with their tea, ma'am," said Rabbits intelligently. "Not with anything," said Mrs. Mackridge, with an air of crushing repartee, and drank.
And more particularly I hated it when Mrs. Mackridge and Mrs. Booch and Mrs. Latude-Fernay were staying in the house. They were, all three of them, pensioned-off servants. Old friends of Lady Drew's had rewarded them posthumously for a prolonged devotion to their minor comforts, and Mrs. Booch was also trustee for a favourite Skye terrier.
Booch was a smaller woman, brown haired, with queer little curls on either side of her face, large blue eyes and a small set of stereotyped remarks that constituted her entire mental range. Mrs. Latude-Fernay has left, oddly enough, no memory at all except her name and the effect of a green-grey silk dress, all set with gold and blue buttons. I fancy she was a large blonde.
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