And so it was all concluded at last. Kitty left Therese guardian of her books and all her peculiar treasures and promised to write very often, and Therese settled down in her little white-curtained bedroom at her grandmother's, and began to study with all her might that she might appear with credit at the opening of Miss Oliver's school.
[CHAPTER XII.]
THE JOURNEY.
MARION had a very pleasant journey to New York, and spent an agreeable day in seeing the wonders of the city. It might have been still more agreeable but for one drawback. That was her dread of being taken for a country girl; an absurd fear lest of all these thousands of people whom she had never seen, and would never see again, somebody should think that she—Marion McGregor—had not lived in the city all her life.
Now it is evident that of the thirty odd millions who inhabit these United States, but a very small part can live in the city, nor is it easy to see how any disgrace should attach to not living in the city; but Marion could not help feeling that it would be a great misfortune should she be suspected of coming from the country. Consequently she was distressed every time her aunt looked into a shop window, and could not enjoy her walk through Stewart's grand establishment, because she was trying so hard to look as though she had seen it all before.
And after all, she had the mortification of overhearing her uncle say to her aunt:
"Poor child, how terribly stiff and awkward she is! Cannot you give her a hint not to look so like a wooden image?"
"I believe it would only make matters worse," said her aunt.
"Well, I can't help thinking it is well she is going to have a change."
"I am sure it is, for more reasons than one. It is Marion's self-consciousness and sense of her own importance which makes her so awkward and constrained. Therese Beaubien has had no more advantages than Marion, and she would appear well anywhere."