“I don’t talk no worse than the Ringold one,” declared Henrietta.
Jessie tried a new tack. She said more quietly: “But you know better, Henrietta.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And perhaps she doesn’t,” ventured Jessie.
“Well—er—she’s got money,” pouted Henrietta. “Why doesn’t she hire somebody to teach her better? You know I never did have any chance, Miss Jessie.”
She felt she was in disgrace, however, and the older girls let her feel this without compunction. Belle was frightfully angry about her frock. She sputtered and threatened and called names that were not polite. Finally Jessie said:
“If you feel that way about it, Belle, send the dress to the cleaner’s and then send the bill to my mother. That is all I can say about it. But I think you brought it on yourself by teasing Henrietta.”
In spite of this speech to Belle, Henrietta felt that she was in disgrace as Jessie marched her away from the spring. Little Sally Stanley came to her other side and squeezed Henrietta’s dirty hand in sympathy.
“Huh!” snuffled Henrietta. “It’s too bad you’ve got the same name as that Moon girl, Sally. Why don’t you ask the minister to change it for you? He christens folks, doesn’t he?”
“Why, yes,” murmured Sally, uncertainly. “But I was christened, you know, oh, years and years ago.”