“I think you must be Americans,” said the young girl, smiling into Billie’s face with a kind of shy frankness.
“We are,” said Billie; “and you are English, of course.”
“Half English.” She paused. “I thank you again, very much.”
Then she turned away rather reluctantly, the girls thought, and they were sorry, too, for some reason.
“Isn’t she sweet?” Mary remarked as the girl disappeared from the chapel.
“So simple, too,” Miss Campbell observed. “So unassuming and such plain, nice clothes.”
“I could almost believe she was poor from her clothes,” put in Nancy, “but her face doesn’t look poor.”
“And, pray, how can you tell whether a person’s face looks poor or rich?” demanded Billie, always ready to enter into an argument with her friend.
“Don’t you know the difference between a poor face and a rich one? Rich faces have a used-to-things expression and poor people always give themselves away by looking surprised.”
A most delicious laugh broke into this grave explanation of Nancy Brown’s. The young girl had come back.