Helen did not reply to this comment; but as she turned to go down to the basement door, Flossie caught her by the arm.
“Don’t you do that!” she exclaimed. “Belle can be pretty mean sometimes. You come in at the front door with me.”
“No,” said Helen, smiling. “You come in at the area door with me. It’s easier, anyway. There’s a maid just opening it.”
So the two girls entered the house together. They were late to lunch—indeed, Helen did not wish any; but she did not care to explain why she was not hungry.
“What’s the matter with you, Flossie?” demanded Hortense. “We’ve done eating, Belle and I. And if you wish your meals here, Helen, please get here on time for them.”
“You mind your own business!” cried Flossie, suddenly taking up the cudgels for her cousin as well as herself. “You aren’t the boss, Hortense! I got kept after school, anyway. And cook can make something hot for me and Helen.”
“You need to be kept after school—from the kind of English you use,” sniffed her sister.
“I don’t care! I hate the old studies!” declared Flossie, slamming her books down upon the table. “I don’t see why I have to go to school at all. I’m going to ask Pa to take me out. I need a rest.”
Which was very likely true, for Miss Flossie was out almost every night to some party, or to the theater, or at some place which kept her up very late. She had no time for study, and therefore was behind in all her classes. That day she had been censured for it at school—and when they took a girl to task for falling behind in studies at that school, she was very far behind, indeed!
Flossie grumbled about her hard lot all through luncheon. Helen kept her company; then, when it was over, she slipped up to her own room with her bundles. Both Hortense and Belle had taken a good look at her, however, and they plainly approved of her appearance.