“Where is Maine?” asked Clematis, eagerly.
“Hear her talk,” said another girl, named Betty, with a sniff. “She needn’t worry, she’ll never get a chance to pick any.”
Betty was not very kind, and did not like Clematis. She often made fun of the younger children.
Clematis turned red. Her eyes flashed, and she was about to answer, when the supper bell rang.
They had just sat down at the table, when Betty said to a girl near by:
“You ought to hear Clematis. She thinks she is going to the country. Just as if anybody would have her around.”
Betty sat next to Clematis, who heard every word.
She had tried to be a good girl and learn, just as Miss Rose asked her to.
Her face burned, and her eyes flashed more than ever.
Before she stopped to think, she turned and waved her spoon before Betty’s face, saying: