“Why, Mollie!” Bab looked surprised. “I thought you said you didn’t want to play. You can take my place any time.”
Mollie smiled. “No,” she answered; “I don’t want to play. It’s not that. But it annoys me when you let Gladys Le Baron, cousin or no cousin, snub us all the time, and you not notice it. Ralph certainly wouldn’t like to have me play with him now, when you’re in for a match game.”
“Mollie,” said Bab, tying her tennis shoe, “I do notice how rude Gladys is. She left me standing all alone the other afternoon, when Ruth and Grace had gone into the club house to speak to Aunt Sallie. Friends of Gladys’s came up, and she deliberately turned her back on me and didn’t introduce me. I felt so out of it! Mrs. Post and Mrs. Erwin soon joined them, and they shook hands with me. I found the other people were some guests who had come down for Mrs. Erwin’s ball, next week, and were staying at her house.
“I know,” she continued, “Gladys is furious that we are invited to the dance. Mrs. Erwin was so cordial and nice. She said, right before me, that though the ball was a grown-up affair, she knew Gladys would want her cousins and friends, and she had invited us on her account. Wasn’t it funny? Miss Gladys couldn’t say a word. Goodness knows, she doesn’t want us. She has been lording it over us, for days, because she and Harry were to be the only very young people invited. Gladys imagines herself a woman of society, and is in reality merely a foolish little girl,” said Barbara. Then she added reflectively: “Miss Sallie says we are all too young to ‘go out,’ and she doubts the propriety of allowing us to attend Mrs. Erwin’s ball. Last night she told Ruth she had almost decided against our going. Ruth championed our cause on the strength of the shortness of our stay in Newport, also that we should be permitted to go as a special favor to our hostess. You know Miss Sallie hates to refuse Ruth anything. Consequently we will be ‘among those present’ at Mrs. Erwin’s ball whether Miss Gladys approves or not.”
“I just wish I could tell my lovely Mrs. Cartwright how mean Gladys is,” said Mollie. “She would not ask her to her charity fair.”
“Please don’t say anything, Mollie,” pleaded Barbara, taking her tennis racquet from the bed. She had already answered Ralph’s impatient whistle from the garden below. “It won’t do any good for us to be horrid to Gladys in return; it will only make us seem as hateful as she is. Things will come around, somehow. I don’t mind her—so very much.”
“Well, I do,” answered Mollie. “But you haven’t told me how your score and Ruth’s stand.”
“Oh, I think we are pretty nearly even.” Barbara was half way out the door. “Be careful, Molliekins,” she urged, “if you go rowing with that freshman this afternoon. Why do you want to know about Ruth’s score and mine? It’s a week before the game, and anything may happen before then. We all play pretty evenly; Hugh Post and Ralph Ewing, too.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean anything, Bab,” Mollie said, thoughtfully. “Only Ruth’s awfully anxious to play in the tournament. She’s just crazy about it.”
“Of course she is, child. So are we all, for that matter,” answered Bab. “You don’t mean——”