"Can a nice girl DO that?" asked Peter, and there was a general shout.
"But I'm crazy about your aunt," some girl asserted, "you know she told Mother that I was a perfect little lady--honestly she did! Don't you love that?"
"Oh, I LOVE that," Emily Saunders said, as freshly as if coining the phrase. "I'm crazy about it!"
"Don't you love it? You've got your aunt's number," they all said. And somebody added thoughtfully, "Can a nice girl DO that?"
How sure of themselves they were, how unembarrassed and how marvelously poised, thought Susan. How casually these fortunate young women could ask what friends they pleased to dinner, could plan for to-day, to-morrow, for all the days that were! Nothing to prevent them from going where they wanted to go, buying what they fancied, doing as they pleased! Susan felt that an impassable barrier stood between their lives and hers.
Late in the afternoon Miss Ella, driving in with a gray-haired young man in a very smart trap, paid a visit to the tennis court, and was rapturously hailed. She was evidently a great favorite.
"See here, Miss Brown," she called out, after a few moments, noticing Susan, "don't you want to come for a little spin with me?"
"Very much," Susan said, a little shyly.
"Get down, Jerry," Miss Saunders said, giving her companion a little shove with her elbow.
"Look here, who you pushing?" demanded the gray-haired young man, without venom.