“The young ladies will now arrange their chairs in a large semi-circle, the vacant space in the center to represent a parlor.” Miss Widdemere waited until the confusion was over and the pupils seated before continuing:
“We will now select a hostess and ten guests to attend an afternoon tea. Whom do you name as hostess, Phyllis?” She had turned toward that young girl because she had risen. “I name Muriel Storm,” said Phyllis, who had been well coached by the girls who sat next to her.
Miss Widdemere sent a keen glance in their direction, and she said, rather coldly: “Young ladies, partly because of Muriel Storm’s recent bereavement, we are not expecting her to share in our imaginary social functions for a month at least.”
Marianne Carnot added in an undertone heard only by those about her, “And the other ‘partly’ is that she couldn’t if we did expect it.”
Faith eventually was chosen as hostess and Muriel intently watched every move made by her friend. How graceful she was and how gracious! A slip of a Japanese girl, who was the daughter of the chef of the school, appeared dressed in an attractive native costume and played the part of maid for this class. When she was older she, too, would be trained for the sphere that she was to fill.
That evening Faith found her friend both discouraged and homesick.
“It’s out of place I am among you all,” she said. “I’d ruther be back with my seagulls, I’m thinkin’. I’ll never take to bowin’ and goin’ to teas.”
Faith laughed merrily; then shaking a finger at Rilla, prophesied: “The day is coming when you may be asked to be hostess for a lord or an earl or someone like that; then won’t you be glad that you learned how at High Cliff Seminary?”
The idea was so absurd that even Muriel laughed.
“Me hostess at an earl’s tea party? You’re allays sayin’ you have no imagination, but I’m thinkin’ you have some and to spare.”