"Feathers don't make the bird, my dear."
"I do like pretty things, grannie," I said.
"So do I, Phœbe," she answered. "But nothing ever looks pretty out of its right place."
"Would a nice new frock for me be out of its right place?" I asked.
"No, not a nice one, perhaps," she said—"if it was the right way of spending the money. But a smart one would. Don't be easy taken in, my girl. If Mrs. Johnstone was a true lady, she wouldn't be driving about in that dress."
"Wouldn't she?" I said.
Grannie laughed, and said—"Think of Mrs. Scott now, Phœbe. Would she?"
"O no," I said. "But then Mrs. Scott always does dress so quiet."
"Well, think of Lady Wheatstone. You've seen her pass, many a time. Would she?"
"No," I said. "But then it isn't her way to put on such smart things. I suppose she doesn't like them."