She was carrying a bundle of flannel.
"The weakest thing I ever did," she said cheerfully, "was to join Lady Crewel's working guild.

Two flannel petticoats for the young by Thursday morning.

I chose the young because the petticoats are so ludicrously small." "If you never do anything weaker than that," said Etta, looking into the fire, "you will not come to much harm." "Perhaps not; what have you been doing--something weaker ?" "Yes.

I have been quarrelling with M.de Chauxville." Maggie held up a petticoat by the selvage (which a male writer takes to be the lower hem), and looked at her cousin through the orifice intended for the waist of the young.
"If one could manage it without lowering one's dignity," she said, "I think that that is the best thing one could possibly do with M.de Chauxville." Etta had taken up the magazine again.

She was pretending to read it.
"Yes; but he knows too much--about every-body," she said..