"Mrs. Alston is considered very ladylike," said Lottie, with a touch of remorse.
"By people who are no judges, I suppose. And Mrs. Wilder treats Kathie as if she were the greatest lady in the land! I think we ought to put her down. Where I went to boarding-school we had two parties,—patricians and plebeians,—and the plebeians were made to keep their places. There ought to be just such a distinction here. The idea of being intimate with a girl whose mother has worked for a living! Why, we shouldn't think of recognizing our dressmaker in society!"
This sounded quite grand to foolish Lottie. That she was considered good enough to go to the Normans' to a party was a great thing. And then Lottie remembered about some great-grandmother of hers, who had belonged to the French nobility, and escaped during one of the revolutions. Didn't that make her blood a little blue? If it would only make the French exercises come easy as well!
Lottie scarcely noticed Kathie the next day. It was rainy, and the "patricians" lingered about the stove, discussing the Norman party. Eight or ten played blind-man's-buff in the walk, and had a gay time, bringing the roses to their cheeks.
Two or three of them had bantered Kathie a little about her "friends," but she accepted it in a very good-natured way.
A day or two after, Emma Lauriston took her drawing over to the window where it was lighter, and still lingered at the table when school closed. Afterward they all fell into a pleasant talk.
"So you have come over to our side," exclaimed Miss Hadden.
"Your side?"—with a look of surprise.
"Yes, the patricians."
Emma Lauriston had always been called proud, and it was well known that she was to be quite an heiress by and by, her grandmother having left her a considerable fortune.