“That’s pretty good news. And what brought about this sudden change of base?”
“Why, papa, the whole trouble in a nutshell is only—Lorraine Hamilton.”
“Why, you don’t mean she’s set the girls against you!”
“Not purposely; indeed, I don’t even suppose she knows it herself. But the real reason the girls didn’t want to get acquainted with me was because they thought that as I was always with Lorraine, and seemed so intimate with her I must be just like her. And do you know, they can’t abide Lorraine; and, papa, she is trying.”
“Yes, she is. It’s a pity, but really I can’t blame anybody for not liking that doleful little piece of femininity.”
“And it isn’t only her dolefulness, but she seems disagreeable by nature. You know I told you I’d try to cheer her up, and I have; but, gracious, you might as well try to amuse a weeping-willow. I never saw such a girl!”
“It’s true,” said Grandma; “I’m so surprised and disappointed that Ellen Howard’s grand-daughter should turn out like that. Mrs. Hamilton is always cheerful and pleasant, but Lorraine isn’t one bit like her. At first I was sorry for the girl, but now I feel indignant with her. I know she could be different if she tried.”
“But seriously, Patty,” said Mr. Fairfield, “did the schoolgirls boycott you because you were friendly with Lorraine?”
“Yes, exactly that, papa. You see, I was more than friendly. We were inseparable—I was with her all the time. Of course the reason was that I hadn’t anyone else to go with; but the girls didn’t understand that. They thought I was——”
“Tarred with the same brush,” suggested Mr. Fairfield. “Well you’re not; you’re a ray of sunshine compared to that murky thunder-cloud. And it’s outrageous that you should be punished for her faults. How did you find all this out?”