She was not quite as keen about the money as her mother, and was inclined—nay, anxious—to be amiable. Madeline West, the great Australian heiress, had possibilities in her power. She was resolved to be friendly with her, and to reinstate her at once as the favourite pupil of former days, burying in oblivion the teacher interlude.
The girls Madeline had met walked on disappointed, saying to one another—
“Fancy that being Maddie West! How awful she looks! So seedy, and so thin and careworn; and she is barely my age—in fact, she is a week younger!”
“And so frightfully shabby,” put in another.
“Did you see her dress—all creases?”
“And her gloves!” (The gloves were apparently beyond description.)
“All the same, Miss Harper was making a great fuss—a great deal of her. It was ‘dear’ this, and ‘love’ that. She is never affectionate for nothing. I know the old boa-constrictor so well. Perhaps Maddie has been left a fortune?” hazarded the sharpest of the party.
“Her dress and jacket looked extremely like it,” sneered number one. “As to her hat, I saw it in at Mason’s this morning—I noticed it particularly, marked eleven and ninepence. That looks like being an heiress! Oh, very much so, indeed!”
The price of the hat settled the question!