“Ho! you seem to have picked up a fine acquaintance there!” said Arthur Lathrop, the eldest of the brothers.
“She is dressed in the last fashion,” said Charlotte, his sister, with a scornful look at Lucy.
“Quite the style,” joined in the other boy. “You brought your bonnet from the Paris Exposition: did you not, ma’am?”
Poor Lucy had not the least idea what the Paris Exposition was; but she knew very well that these unkind children were making fun of her, and she drew back with a hurt and angry look.
“Couldn’t you give my sisters the pattern of that lovely bonnet?” said Arthur.
“And of that outside toggery too,” said William, “whatever its name is. Not being used to such an elegant style of dress, I don’t know what to call it.”
“You ought to be ashamed to talk so,” said Bessie, indignantly. “She’s a nice, good, little girl, who tries to be a help to every one; and if her clothes are not so very pretty, she can’t help it. It is better to have good clothes and be bad, than to have bad clothes and be good,” added the little girl, saying just the opposite of what she intended.
But no one noticed her mistake. The Lathrops were all too intent on their victim, the other little ones too full of sympathy and indignation, to pay much heed to a choice of words.
“Well,” returned William, provokingly, “don’t we say she is the most stylish, fashionable young lady we have seen this long time. For me, I am struck dumb with admiration.”
“To be sure,” said Charlotte, “didn’t you say that bonnet was the latest fashion from the Exposition?”