“Oh, Adele, if that isn’t just like you!” exclaimed Rosamond Wright. “For my part, I shall leave the snippy little thing quite alone.”
At the recreation hour the girls trooped again into the school-yard, some romping about, and others sauntering in chattering groups. Susie Green, with a book in her hand, sat alone on the bench under the elm-tree.
Adele, leaving the six, walked over to the girl and said pleasantly, “Good morning, Susie. I know that you are a stranger, so, if you wish, I will introduce you to my friends.”
Susie tossed her head as she replied rather ungraciously, “My ma—I mean my mother—doesn’t wish me to make up with any children at this public school until I know what families they come from. She says I may meet Doris Drexel, because she is our banker’s daughter. My ma—I mean my mother—wanted to send me to a private school, but there ain’t,—I mean there isn’t,—any around here.”
Adele arose. “I am sorry that you feel that way, Susie,” she said kindly. “Our schoolmates are all nice, and I am afraid that you will be lonely alone.”
“Poor girl!” Adele said, as she rejoined her friends.
“Such airs!” Rosamond Wright declared with a toss of her pretty head. “An inn-keeper’s daughter, and she doesn’t want to meet us, whose ancestors have been gentry for hundreds of years.”
“Well,” exclaimed Bertha Angel, “let’s proceed to forget her.” But they were not allowed to forget the new pupil, as you shall hear.
About a week later the Sunny Seven met under the elm-tree early one morning, and Betty Burd held up a pink envelope, as she exclaimed, “Who else had the honor to receive one of these?”
“Honor, do you call it?” Rosamond asked languidly, as she displayed a pink envelope. “I have one, but I shall not accept.”