"I don't see how papa can object to my asking this nice little thing to come to me for an afternoon, when he doesn't mind your boring yourself to death with Goody Barton, whose snuff-taking would try the nerves of a rhinoceros, nor forbid my inviting the little Jobsons, who are unpleasant to look upon, and stupid beyond the wildest flights of imagination. He lets me have any one I like."
"Yes; but you teach the little Jobsons the alphabet, my dear. And that is a charitable work."
"And Rhoda will amuse me, and I'm sure that is a charitable work!"
Minnie would get her own way, of course. She always did.
That same evening Minnie said to her father, with her frank, bright smile, "Papa, may I not ask Rhoda Maxfield to take tea with me some afternoon?"
"Rhoda what?"
"Little Maxfield, the grocer's daughter, papa," said Minnie, boldly.
Mrs. Bodkin bent nervously over her knitting.
"What on earth for? Why do you want to associate with such folks? Have you not plenty of friends without——?"
"No, papa. But I don't ask her because I'm in want of friends."