"We can none of us judge of the condition of other people," said Mrs.
Nosnibor in a gravely charitable tone and with a look towards Zulora.
"Oh, mamma," answered Zulora, pretending to be half angry but rejoiced at
being able to say out what she was already longing to insinuate; "I don't
believe a word of it. It's all indigestion. I remember staying in the
house with her for a whole month last summer, and I am sure she never
once touched a drop of wine or spirits. The fact is, Mahaina is a very
weakly girl, and she pretends to get tipsy in order to win a forbearance
from her friends to which she is not entitled. She is not strong enough
for her calisthenic exercises, and she knows she would be made to do them
unless her inability was referred to moral causes."
Here the younger sister, who was ever sweet and kind, remarked that she
thought Mahaina did tipple occasionally. "I also think," she added,
"that she sometimes takes poppy juice."
"Well, then, perhaps she does drink sometimes," said Zulora; "but she
would make us all think that she does it much oftener in order to hide
her weakness."
And so they went on for half an hour and more, bandying about the
question as to how far their late visitor's intemperance was real or no.
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