“Well, I don’t know,” said Bertha. “I fancy somehow that money does not always make a ‘real lady,’ as you call her.”
“What does then?” inquired Ruby and Florrie, with astonishment.
“Sugar and spice and all that’s nice—that’s what real ladies are made of!” said Bertha, laughing.
“Now do be a love,” whispered Ruby, “and tell me who it is, and I will not whisper it to a soul.”
“Well, promise to be as silent as the grave.”
Ruby nodded.
“If I don’t change my mind, the shabby old Professor!”
“What do you choose that old fright for?”
“Perhaps because he is the only one that did not ask me!”
* * * * *