“You needn’t call mother old—she’s no older than yours.”
“Well, anyhow, mine’s the prettiest,” said Nesta.
“And my mother is the strongest,” retorted Flossie. “Oh, there, don’t let us quarrel,” said Nesta. “If I hadn’t you for my friend now, Floss, I’d be the most miserable girl in the world. To tell the truth, I’m rather terrified at the way they’re taking things at home—not a word—not a line, nothing whatever. It does seem odd, doesn’t it?”
Flossie made no remark. Just then Henrietta Brown was seen passing the window. Flossie put out her head and called to Henrietta to stop, and then dashed downstairs.
“Oh, Henny,” she gasped, “I’m ever so sorry, but Nesta Aldworth, my friend, she is still with us. I wonder—”
“We really couldn’t,” said Henny, who was downright, and not quite as refined as even the Griffiths themselves. “We haven’t a seat left. Either you must come, or your friend. We can’t fit in the two of you. It’s impossible. We might have done so at the beginning, but you said your stuck-up Miss Aldworth would be gone away.”
“Well, she has not gone,” said Flossie. “Of course, if you like I can give up my seat if you are sure you couldn’t squeeze us both in.”
“I’m certain, positive on the subject. And, Flossie, you mustn’t give up your seat,” said Henny, linking her arm inside Flossie’s arm, “for we don’t like her one little bit. She’s not pretty like von, and she has no go in her. You must come. Why, Tom and Jack and Robert—they’d be just mad if you weren’t there.”
Flossie was pleased to hear that the Brown boys—Tom, Jack, and Robert—wished for her society.
“Well, of course, it’s her own fault,” she said aloud, and then she went back to Nesta.