“Her name is Hamilton–Miss Margaret Hamilton. I knew her just casually in Chicago, where I stayed longer than I ever did in any other place after Father died. We were in the same class, that is, we graduated the same year. I saw nothing much of her at school, but I frequently caught glimpses of her when I was sent to old Worthington’s on some errand.”
“Was she a relation of that rich old Worthington who died two years ago?”
“No relation, she was the daughter of his housekeeper, a very nice girl, too. Rather proud, I fancied, but thoroughly free from nonsense and silly sentimentalism.”
It was some moments before Dolly dared to glance at her friends.
There were significant glances interchanged, but no comments were made, and Dolly’s people did not surmise then, that the young woman under discussion had been Dolly’s successful rival for the class presidency.
There were music and singing later in the evening, and Beth felt that she knew for the first time, perhaps, what home-life might really mean.
After the girls had slipped into their dressing-gowns that night, they ran over to Dolly’s room to discuss the subject that was just then uppermost in the minds of them all–Margaret Hamilton. They halted at the door, however, for there was Dolly enjoying a comfortable chat with her mother.
There were music and singing later in the evening.