Irving commented at supper upon Betsy’s sociability with the pretty waitress in the stage, and some instinct bade the good woman guard her secret.
“She is a very intelligent girl,” Betsy replied. “It seems it’s quite a common thing for nice poor girls to see the Park in this way.”
“A very good idea, too,” remarked Mrs. Bruce. “Just as the college boys wait on table in the White Mountain resorts.”
Betsy breathed more freely. If Mrs. Bruce were going to approve this move of Rosalie’s, it would be a relief. Fully able to fight her own battles, she shrank sensitively from hearing this girl discussed and criticised.
“That’s what I say, too,” she returned. “I think it shows good courage in a girl to strike out and see something of the world. It shows character and enterprise.”
Irving looked at his old friend curiously. It was unlike her to express so much. It was some embarrassment to Betsy to take her meals with her employers, as the herding together of crowds for food on this trip made necessary; and this was the first time she had opened her lips voluntarily at table.
In the mean time Rosalie was again winning laurels from the Nixons, and Helen Maynard looked up at her as she gave her orders.
When the party left the table, Helen lagged behind.
“Miss Vincent, Rosalie,” she said low to the waitress, “don’t you remember me at Lambeth?”
Rosalie colored.