"Well, of course," answered Elma—who wished to propitiate Alice, for her nature was to be all things to all men—"I can see at a glance that she is not your style; she has not got your cleverness and refinement, dear Alice."
"Oh, bother!" cried Alice. But all the same she was pleased, and when Elma tucked her small hand inside of her arm Alice did not shake her off.
"Any one can see that," continued Elma Lewis; "but I don't think she is quite so bad as you paint her, Alice."
Alice's private opinion of Elma was that she was a little toad, and she now managed to extricate herself from the smaller girl's clasp.
"I shall never like her," she said. "There is no good in your praising her to me. If you mean to be her friend you must do so from a double motive."
"How uncharitable of you!" cried Elma, coloring crimson as she spoke.
"Oh, I can guess it very well, my dear," pursued Alice. "But for you she would not be a member of the Tug-of-war. What would have been a delightful society, a pleasure to the best girls at Middleton School, will be nothing whatever but a ridiculous farce, a scene of high comedy, something contemptible, now that Kitty Malone has joined it. But for you she would never have been asked to join. Why did you do it, Elma?"
"For no reason in particular," answered Elma.
"That is certainly not true, and you know it."
"I cannot think why you speak to me in that tone," said Elma. "What have
I done to you that you should think so badly of me?"