“How do you do, Miss King?” said Miss Tredgold.
She favored “the young person,” as she termed Miss King, with a very distant bow.
“Girls,” she said, turning to the others, “are you aware that preparation hour has arrived? Will you all go quietly indoors?—Miss King, my nieces are beginning their studies in earnest, and I do not allow the hour of preparation to be interfered with by any one.”
“I know all about that,” said Nancy in a glib voice. “I was at a first-rate school myself for years. Weren’t we kept strict, just! My word! we couldn’t call our noses our own. The only language was parlez-vous. But it was a select school—very; and now that I have left, I like to feel that I am accomplished. None of you girls can beat me on the piano. I know nearly all the girls’ songs in San Toy and the Belle of New York. Father loves to hear me when I sing ‘Rhoda Pagoda.’ Perhaps, Miss Tredgold, you’d like to hear me play on the pianoforte. I dote on dance music; don’t you, Miss Tredgold? Dance music is so lively; it warms the cockles of the heart—don’t it, Miss Tredgold?”
“I don’t dance, so it is impossible for me to answer,” said Miss Tredgold. “I am sorry, Miss King, to disturb a pleasant meeting, but my girls are under discipline, and the hour for preparation has arrived.”
Nancy shrugged her capacious shoulders.
“I suppose that means congé for poor Nancy King,” she said. “Very sorry, I’m sure. Good-day, madam.—Good-bye, Renny. I’ll look you up another day.—Good-bye to all. I’m off to have a bit of fun with my boy cousins.”
Nancy swung round and left the group. She walked awkwardly, switching her shoulders and swaying from side to side, a dirty train trailing after her.
“May I ask who your friend really is?” said Miss Tredgold when she had watched the departure of this most undesirable acquaintance.
“She is Nancy King, Aunt Sophia. We have known her all our lives,” said Verena.