It kept wavering over the sweet face, for she felt somehow that she was being observed. She wished she had on one of the pretty frocks, but Jane had ironed out this white one, and Mrs. Jarvis had found her a sash. But she was not accustomed to much consideration of herself, and she was hungry. The ladies were prettily dressed, some of them in rather quakerish colors and they had beautiful fans and parasols. It was quite a meeting-place, where they exchanged bits of news, a little gossip, and had most excellent tea.
"Carrick isn't a French name," said Madam Neville, rather critically.
"No. She is French on the mother's side. M. de Ronville's father and her grandfather were Huguenot exiles in the old times. He is her guardian now, and there is some property, enough for a town, I believe. And you know the French once had possession of most of that country."
Betty Wharton knew that would settle her status at once, more decisively than her beauty.
Then some other ladies, having finished their tea, came over for a little chat. Had she been to see the new play? For "The Academy of Polite Science" seemed rather above an ordinary theatre, and Philadelphia had swung back to amusements. Was she going to Mrs. Chew's card party this evening?
"Oh, yes. She wouldn't miss it for anything."
"What a beautiful child!" whispered another. "Will she live here in town?"
"Oh, she is only on a visit now."
"She's too nice to be wasted on such an outlandish place as Pittsburg, where they do nothing but make whiskey."
The pony came round, and the ladies said their good-bys. Since the closing of the war, indeed, in gratitude for French assistance, much honor had been paid to our noble allies.