“I suppose,” remarked Cathalina, thoughtfully, “that it isn’t criminal not to know that George Eliot wrote ‘Adam Bede,’ or not to be able to translate a foreign language. Lots of good people don’t know either, I guess.”
“O, of course,” Helen laughed. “I can forget history over night. But I don’t know what these girls do care for that amounts to anything. I reckon”—and Helen’s drawl was much in evidence, “our fathehs and mothes want us to get our lessons paht of the time anyway! They say that Pearl has a silly motheh that wants huh to be ‘in society’ and huh fatheh wo’ks his head off to get money enough foh them. He was here one time, a kind-looking man, not very much fixed up, and Pearl acted as if she felt ashamed of him!”
“Victoria has been real nice to me.”
“That is because”—but Helen stopped and changed the reference she was going to make to the style and daintiness of Cathalina’s clothes to “well, I feel sorry for Vic. She hasn’t any mother. She has more common sense, too, in some ways than Pearl.”
That very day, after study hours, it chanced that Cathalina had callers. Hilary was off with some of the girls, but Cathalina had a theme to write and since genius had begun to burn, was scribbling away at a great rate.
A light tapping came at the doors and a rather pretty voice called, “Is Miss Van Buskirk at home?”
“She is,” replied Cathalina pleasantly, opening the door to admit two beruffled and befurbelowed young ladies of the Junior Collegiate classes, Victoria Parker and Pearl Opal Taylor.
Victoria’s flaxen locks were puffed and waved and frizzled. She was short and plump, her arms and hands fair and pretty, for Victoria would not risk her white skin in any of the athletic sports. A wide gold bracelet, long earrings, and half a dozen finger rings were her chief ornaments. She sank gracefully into a chair, patting her puffs and turning the bracelet right side before.
Pearl was tall and thin. Much powder and careless eating had had its effect already upon her dark complexion, but she added more powder and even a bit of rouge upon occasion, though not when in the presence of her teachers. Her stylish silk frock was adorned with braid and beads and dabs of color until it almost made Cathalina’s eyes ache.
“I undehstand that your home is in N’Yawk, Miss Van Buskirk,” simpered Victoria, after the exchange of greetings was completed and the three were settled for a visit.