At the seminary there were only three children besides Ella. One was two-year-old Nellie, the steward’s daughter, whom she loved with all her heart. The second was John, and the third was his little sister, two years younger than he. For this little sister there was rarely any real place in Ella’s world; she was too young for a companion and too old for a baby; but just as Ned, the steward’s son, fifteen years old, would sometimes allow Ella, “going on nine,” to share his amusements, so Ella would occasionally permit John, “going on seven,” to go to the lake with her to skip stones, or to the hills for wild flowers.
The village children all went to the village school, and Ella seldom saw any of them. The mother had once known the mother of Dora, daughter of the village doctor, and it was arranged that the two children should spend an afternoon together. No one ever found out exactly what happened, but after this day, whenever the two little girls passed, they held their heads very high and swung their short skirts disdainfully, and looked away from each other.
Soon after this visit, it came to pass that Ella needed to have a tooth out to make way for a newcomer. “I dare you to go to the doctor and have it pulled,” said Ned mischievously. Ella would have felt humiliated not to “take a dare,” and she appealed to the mother for permission. The mother was glad to escape the string-and-pull process, and she hoped that if the children met again, they might become better friends.
“Was Dora there?” she asked on Ella’s return.
“Yes, she was,” replied Ella with emphasis. “Her father told her to go out, but she just stayed in the room every minute. She wanted to hear me cry, but I wouldn’t. When it was out, she said, just as if she was glad, ‘Hm! Hurt you some, didn’t it?’ and I laughed and said, ‘No, not a bit.’” Ella did not add the fact that going down the doctor’s walk, she had swung her skirts with more disdain than ever.
The mother looked amused.
“Are you sure that that speech was quite true?” she asked.
“Why, you see, if Dora had not been there, it would have hurt, of course; but she was there, and so it didn’t; and anyhow, I wasn’t thinking about it, so I shouldn’t have known it if it had.” And the mother was wise enough not to press the question any further.
THEY HELD THEIR HEADS VERY HIGH AND SWUNG THEIR SHORT SKIRTS DISDAINFULLY, AND LOOKED AWAY FROM EACH OTHER