“At least somebody’s tried to teach her a few things. She is no sword-swallower.”
“I suppose Aunt Mary had some refinement,” returned Hortense, languidly.
Helen’s ears were preternaturally sharp. She heard everything. But she had such good command of her features that she showed no emotion at these side remarks.
After luncheon the three sisters separated for their usual afternoon amusements. Neither of them gave a thought to Helen’s loneliness. They did not ask her what she was going to do, or suggest anything to her save that, an hour later, when Belle saw her cousin preparing to leave the house in the same dress she had worn at luncheon, she cried:
“Oh, Helen, do go out and come in by the lower door; will you? The basement door, you know.”
“Sure!” replied Helen, cheerfully. “Saves the servants work, I suppose, answering the bell.”
But she knew as well as Belle why the request was made. Belle was ashamed to have her appear to be one of the family. If she went in and out by the servants’ door it would not look so bad.
Helen walked over to the avenue and looked at the frocks in the store windows. By their richness she saw that in this neighborhood, at least, to refit in a style which would please her cousins would cost quite a sum of money.
“I won’t do it!” she told herself, stubbornly. “If they want me to look well enough to go in and out of the front door, let them suggest buying something for me.”
She went back to the Starkweather mansion in good season; but she entered, as she had been told, by the area door. One of the maids let her in and tossed her head when she saw what an out-of-date appearance this poor relation of her master made.