"Put on that pretty pink thing you wore in Ridgetown, lately," she said.
The name of Ridgetown brought them closer to realities. This was Miss Dudgeon of The Oaks with whom they ate cream cake. Jean said, "I'm sure to give the wrong titles. You don't mind I hope."
"No," said Adelaide Maud. At the same time she was dying with the desire that they should do her infinite credit. Carefully she thought over the matter and then spoke. "In any case it's so much a matter of one's manner in doing it. I remember when Lady Emily was ill once, she had a very domineering nurse, who tossed her head one time and said to me, 'I suppose she wants me to be humble and "my lady" her, but not a bit of me.' Then one of the most distinguished surgeons in England was called in, and his first words were, 'And how d'ye do, my lady.' He called her 'my lady' throughout, quite unusual you know, and yet in so dignified and kind a manner, as though he were saying, 'I know, but I prefer my own way in the matter.'"
"What a drop to the nurse," said Mabel.
Jean looked reflective.
"Do you know, you've told me something I didn't know," she said. "I never quite knew how one ought to address Lady Emily. It's so different at Ridgetown," she exclaimed.
Adelaide Maud seemed a little confused, but answered heartily.
"Oh, none of it's a trouble when you really meet people. They are so much simpler than one would think."
Mabel saw that Adelaide Maud had given them her first tip. It was sweetly done, but then----! Anyhow, they had given Adelaide Maud plenty of tips about getting in early to seats in the Queen's Hall and minor affairs of that sort. Why shouldn't the benefits work both ways?
It was about the time of Elma's ball, when they sent the white roses, and Adelaide Maud said she would help them to choose.