They were on their way to school one morning, Nina, Jeanette, and their cousin, Lola Blessington.
“Nancy Ferris danced just beautifully,” said Lola, “I wonder where she learned.”
“I don't know,” Jeanette said, sullenly.
She had envied the applause which Nancy's graceful dancing had evoked.
“Why, Jeanette,” exclaimed Nina, “you do know that Nancy learned to dance in New York.”
“Well, I don't know who taught her, and that's probably what Lola meant,” Jeanette retorted sharply.
“New York!” said Lola. “Why, I remember a little girl I saw once at the theatre, who danced so gracefully that I thought she must be a fairy. She seemed ever so much like Nancy, but she had—”
“Come here, Nancy,” called Jeanette, sharply, “Lola says she saw a girl once, at a theatre in New York, who danced and looked like you. What do you think of that?”
“Jeanette!” cried Nina, surprised that her sister should be so eager to tease Nancy, but Nancy did not seem annoyed.
She looked straight into Jeanette's flashing eyes, as she said, quietly: