"Well, you've seen Mrs. Howard Slater?"
All the girls had seen Mrs. Slater, the beautifully gowned, decidedly aristocratic old lady with abundant but perfectly white hair and bright, sparkling black eyes. Mrs. Slater, who seemed a very reserved and exclusive person, had spent many summers and even an occasional winter in her own handsome home in Lakeville. She lived alone except for a number of servants; for both her son and her daughter were married. The son lived abroad, no one knew just where; and some four years previously Mrs. Slater's daughter, who was Henrietta's mother, had died in Rome. Since that event Henrietta had been cared for by her uncle's wife; and she had spent a winter in California and another in Florida with her grandmother, but this was her first visit to Lakeville. It was said that Henrietta's mother had left her little daughter a very respectable fortune, that her father, an English traveler of note, was also wealthy, and it was known to a certainty that Mrs. Howard Slater was a moneyed person.
"Yes," said Marjory, replying to Bettie's question, "we sit behind Mrs. Slater in church, and she's the very daintiest old lady that ever lived. She's as slim and straight as any young girl. She's perfectly lovely to look at, but——"
"Yes, 'but,'" agreed Jean. "She seems very proud and not very—get-nearable. I don't know whether I'd like to live with her or not; but I know I'd feel terribly set up to own a few relatives that looked like that."
"How do you like Henrietta?" asked Mabel.
"I don't know," said Bettie.
"Neither do I," replied Jean.
"It takes time," declared Marjory, "to discover whether you like a person or not. And when it's such a different person—truly, she isn't a bit like any other girl in this town—it takes longer."
"The chocolate's ready," announced Jean, opening a box of wafers. "Here, Bettie, you carry Henrietta's cup and I'll take these. Let's all have our chocolate on the sidewalk."