“Well, young lady, now you right-about face and live up to the other side of it. They would follow you and love you if you were as shabby as our wash-lady. So you can go as simply dressed as you want, and they will do nothing but imitate you. It’s a wonderful power you have, Gloria.”
Gloria brushed back the straying hair from her tear-stained face.
“I never thought of that, really, Peggy,” she said. “Do you suppose there is really a little something worth while in me to call forth such feeling on the part of the class?”
“A good deal,” said Peggy. “But not—exactly what they think. You can be even finer than they believe, though, if you’ll set about it.”
“I wish I were like you, Peggy,” wailed Gloria.
“Like me! Now, Gloria Hazeltine, you know you don’t. Nobody expects me to be anything very remarkable. They love me but they have to love a lot of faults along with me. So they love me and look down, and you and look up.”
“You’ve helped, Peggy. Instead of being sorry and ashamed of myself and realizing that I’m not as nice as they think, I’m going to turn that energy to being as nice. Do you think I can do it?”
“I’m not from Missouri—but I cling to their motto, and I do believe you can fulfill it for me.”
“All right, I will show you. You and all of them. I’m going to surprise you, Peggy Parsons!”
Peggy left her room with a little sigh.