“Manners?” she suggested; “one doesn’t rush ahead of one’s hostess, I think; or does one, Stephanie?”
Honor did wish they would not quarrel so. Of course Patricia was right, but—she slid her hand into Stephanie’s, and they dropped back behind the others.
“I hate her!” said Stephanie.
“No, you don’t,” said Honor stoutly. “You dislike her, and that is a pity, because she is splendid, and if you didn’t dislike her, you would like her so tremendously; but you don’t hate her.”
“The same thing!” muttered Stephanie.
“No!” Honor’s cheek flushed and her eyes flashed. “To dislike, that comes to every one; to hate, that is wicked, and the good God is vexed.”
“My children,” called Soeur Séraphine. “Behold us arrived! forward then! Our Gretli has a surprise for us, of which I learn but on the instant. Follow me!”
CHAPTER IV
THE OUTGOING
The Châlet des Rochers (I hope it is still standing!) wore an air of high festivity. Garlands wreathed the open door and swung in festoons from the low thatched roof. Around the door stood a group of young men and maidens, all in the old-time Swiss costume, one of the prettiest in the world; the girls with dark bodices laced over the full white blouse, short full skirts of bright green, blue or red, snowy stockings and well-blacked shoes; the youths in knee-breeches, white shirts, short jackets and pointed hats.