The city girl was rather pleased to be showing off her elaborate wardrobe to these village girls, who were evidently quite impressed.
“Oh, that’s just one of my party gowns,” she said indifferently. “I have several.” Then she confessed: “I honestly don’t know how to go about hanging them up. I have just stepped out of my clothes and Susan, my maid, has put them away.”
“My, how I would hate to have anyone tagging me around all the time like that,” Merry exclaimed, not any too tactfully. “It would get on my nerves.”
Geraldine drew herself up haughtily and bit her lip to keep from replying. Her two guests, with many exclamations of admiration for the dresses, hung them up in the long closet, and then, when that task was finished, Merry announced: “Now I will show you my latest accomplishment, of which I am real proud.”
Her chum laughed as she explained: “You see, Geraldine, my mother has a companion, who is also a trained nurse, and last week she taught Merry how to make a bed in hospital fashion, and the next day when I went over to the Lees’, Merry had made and unmade her bed seven times trying to get it perfect.”
“There’s quite a knack to it,” that maiden smilingly declared, as she stretched, smoothed and tucked in sheets and blankets. Then as she stood back proudly and surveyed her accomplishment, she said, “Mother thinks my bed-making is a work of art.”
Geraldine wanted to say that she did not consider menial labor of any kind an art, but she refrained from making the comment.
Merry sank down in an easy chair by the fireplace and looked around with a radiant smile. “Everything was cleared away like magic, wasn’t it?” she said sociably; then she added philosophically: “If one dreads a thing, that makes the doing of it doubly hard, but when one pretends that it is going to be great fun, it gets done much more quickly; don’t you think so, Geraldine?”
Poor Geraldine’s head was in a whirl. Somehow she could not adjust herself to the view of things held by these country girls.
The Colonel had told her that Mr. Lee was the wealthiest man in the countryside, and, of course, she knew the financial and social standing of the Drexel family, and yet these girls had been taught that it was a privilege to render loving service and that bed-making was an art.