"Oh, he told me!" Bella bridled her head and half shut one eye that gave her an unpleasant look of cunning. "He swore me not to tell and said little girls were often better than big girls."
"And did you swear?" Primrose was horror-stricken.
"Well, I didn't say any wicked words. Some of the great ladies say, 'I swear,' and the men often do, but it doesn't really mean anything when you say it in French."
Primrose asked Patty about it.
"Swearing is swearing, whether you do it in French or Dutch. What put such nonsense in thy head? I think the French a wicked language anyhow, and I don't see why madam wants thee to jabber any such gibberish."
"It's very hard and I don't believe I ever shall," said the child with a sigh.
"The better grace for thee then."
Bella was quite wise and precocious and learning ways of fashion rapidly. She stood a little in awe of Madam Wetherill and could be very demure when she saw that it was the part of wisdom. Occasionally she made Primrose a tacit partner in some reprehensible matter in a way that the child could not protest against. And then Bella laughed at her love for birds and flowers and was always talking about finery and repeating the flattering things that were said to her. And she much preferred listening to the ladies and the gallants to gathering flowers or hearing the birds singing in the trees.
One day Andrew came. Everything was better at Cherry Hill, and her uncle thought now it was time for her to come.
"Why, is your father getting about so soon?" asked Madam Wetherill in surprise.