After this morning’s hard work and lunch, the two ladies drove together out to the park, and Mary saw a number of wonderful things; she was strangely quiet, and talked hardly at all, but her glances were in every direction, observant, critical, and amazed.
When they returned, they discovered that some of the purchases had already arrived; in fact, the young lady’s room was half full of cardboard boxes.
“You will have to put on the black gown,” announced Miss Usher. “I’ll dress you myself, and we will dine at the table d’hôte.”
“Oh, no, no,” protested the other, in an agonised voice, “I dare not.”
“Oh, but yes; you must begin some time, and the sooner the better, and learn how girls of your own rank look and behave themselves. Don’t you wish your father to be pleased when he returns? Don’t you wish him to be proud of you?”
“Is it proud of me! You’re making fun,” she scoffed.
“Not at all. I want you to do me credit. And you will follow me into the room, and copy what I do as regards knife and fork and wine-glasses.”
“I expect I’ll do something awfully bad—upset the things, I’ll be so nervous, and have all the servants laughing at me.”
“Well-trained servants never laugh; and please remember that you are no longer, as you seem to think, on equal terms with them. They don’t understand familiarity; they have their own dignity. There is a story of a gentleman who had socialistic ideas—all men on an equality sort of thing; he insisted on shaking hands with his butler. The butler did not like it; he gave warning.”