“Which other?” and Susiebelle opened her big brown eyes.
“What’s her name? Pa—Pa—Paleaf.”
“What!” screamed the other. “The girl with the pug-nose, the green eyes and washed-out hair. Sprung from nowhere! A lot you know about it.”
“I know plenty, because I watch. Didn’t I see them walking in the Park the other morning? I’ll do him the justice, though, to say she kept calling him back when he was all for getting away.”
“I don’t believe it. She knows how to dress, and there’s an end of it.”
“She’s a right-down pretty woman,” said Miss Groggerton spitefully, who would have been just as eager to pronounce her ugly upon another occasion.
“There’s no dash, no ‘go’ about her. She gives one the impression she’s been sleeping in a bandbox. I’d rather have Agnes for company than her.”
“You would. But then you’re not a man. It makes all the difference.”
And then Susiebelle, being quite overwrought, put her head on the sofa pillow and cried aloud. Truly Miss Groggerton was cruel. But it was not her nature to remain so long, if justice must be done her. Suddenly she said:
“Are you very gone on Barringcourt?”