“I—I’m very sorry I said that, Dorothy,” he began, slowly. “I—I’m sure I’d forgotten the hyphen in your own name. I was just thinking of those English girls. I’m positive that when they met you they felt themselves far above you, and it just makes my American blood boil—that’s all!”
Dorothy turned in time to catch a suspicious moisture in Jim’s eyes, and the warm-hearted girl immediately upbraided herself for speaking as she had.
“You’re true blue, Jim! I might have known how you meant it, and that you wouldn’t willingly slander my friends. And, just to show you that I believe in telling the truth, I’ll admit that Gwendolyn was a hateful little spitfire when I first entered the school. But finally she grew to know that in the many attributes which contribute to our happiness there were girls in the world just as well off as she. Gradually she came around, until, at the end, she was one of my warmest friends.”
Dorothy went on to relate how she had saved Gwendolyn from drowning, and how, in turn, the English girl had saved Dorothy from a terrible slide to death down an icy incline.
“Well, that wasn’t bad of her,” admitted Jim. “But she couldn’t very well stand by and see you perish—anyway, you had saved her life, and she felt duty bound to return the compliment.”
“Please believe, Jim, that she did it out of the fullness of her heart.”
“Well, if you say so,” the boy returned, reluctantly.
Both looked up at this juncture to find Ephraim standing in the aisle. The eyes of the old colored man contained a look of unbounded delight, and it was not difficult to see that his pleasure was caused by the anticipated return, within the next few hours, to Old Bellvieu and Mrs. Calvert.
“Well, Ephy,” said Dorothy, “soon we’ll see Aunt Betty again. And just think—I’ve been away for nine long months!”