"It does annoy me very much, dear. Stop and think of the word you used just now. A duck! In what possible way could your grandmother resemble a duck?"
"I didn't say she resembled one, Aunt Lucinda. I said—"
But any shade of distinction was too much for Miss Clyde's patience.
"We will not argue the question, Blue Bonnet. Please eliminate the word from your vocabulary. It is inelegant as well as inexpressive."
Blue Bonnet looked a little rebellious as she waved to her grandmother and followed Miss Clyde to the carriage. She wished Aunt Lucinda would grant her a little leeway in her mode of expression—it was so troublesome to always pick and choose words. Besides, she had her own opinion as to the expressiveness of slang. Grandmother was a duck, a perfect—
"Take good care of yourself, dearie," the gentle voice was at that moment calling, "and if you stay over Sunday, send Grandmother a postal."
Blue Bonnet promised, Denham touched the whip to the horses, and she and Aunt Lucinda were off.
The first visit of the afternoon was to the school. Miss Clyde telephoned Miss North for an appointment, which was made for five o'clock. Miss North also hoped, the maid said, that it would be convenient for Miss Clyde and her niece to dine with her at six, and see something of the school and the girls.
Blue Bonnet was delighted. She had been formally entered in the school some weeks before, her tuition paid, her room engaged for the first of January. This had been necessary on account of limited accommodations.
Miss North was awaiting her guests in her living-room at the head of the first flight of stairs. She took Blue Bonnet's hand cordially, and held it for a moment in a friendly grasp.