The morning sunlight flooded the long drawing-room, whose faded coverings looked tired out; several thin places very near to becoming holes could plainly be seen on the furniture, while even the mantel ornaments looked depressed.
Miss Fitzwilliam sprang to her feet, and energetically thrust the shutters half way to. “That stupid Eliza!” she ejaculated again. “I hope, Miss Pepper, that you are not troubled as I am with servants. They are really the plague of my life, although I change every fortnight or so.” Then she came back and sat down on the faded red sofa by Phronsie’s side. “What a most beautiful reception your sister’s was, to be sure!” she cried rapturously. “I always make it a point to exert myself to go to Badgertown whenever she gives one. And I’m so sorry for you, that you were all so annoyed Tuesday by that”—
“Miss Fitzwilliam,” said Phronsie, breaking in to the stream of talk. “I have come to see you about that very thing.” Then she looked steadily into the little steel-gray eyes before her.
“And have you, my dear?” cried Miss Fitzwilliam delightedly. “I suppose you want my advice what to do.” She tried to lay her pinched and restless fingers on the quiet gloved ones in Phronsie’s lap, to show her sympathy; but the young girl not stirring, Miss Fitzwilliam pulled hers back, and went on rapidly, “As it was such an outrageous thing, I would”—
“Miss Fitzwilliam,” Phronsie did not pause now, but went swiftly on to the end, not removing her gaze from the other’s face, “I’ve come to see you about this matter, because I know that after you’ve heard all about it, you’ll be sorry for the young girl who did such a wrong thing. Just think, she’s only sixteen, and she hasn’t been with her mother only vacations when she was home from school, since she was six years old. And as soon as she did it, and got there to the reception, she’d have undone it all if she could,—oh, a thousand times! And she made Bella Drysdale take her. Mrs. Drysdale didn’t know anything about it, but thought she was a parlor boarder at Miss Willoughby’s; and Mrs. Atherton didn’t know either. Grace has told it all to us, and that she alone was to blame. It was the first time that she has ever done such a thing, and she didn’t stop to think before she did it. And now she can’t forgive herself; she must always be sorry to the end of her life: so all of us must help her to bear it.”
“Miss Phronsie Pepper!” screamed Miss Fitzwilliam, throwing away her self-control as Phronsie paused, “you don’t mean to say that you think people should take up this Tupper girl; why, I’ve told everybody I could about it! I went around yesterday, and I’m going again this afternoon.” Her thin face glowed, and her pinched-up nose was set high in the air with positive delight.
“I know you did tell them yesterday,” said Phronsie quietly; “but I think you’ll be sorry for that when you come to think it over.”
“Sorry? Indeed, no!” sniffed Miss Fitzwilliam. “I shall get as many as I can to know it before nightfall. It’s my duty. Sorry, indeed!”
Phronsie surveyed her gravely. “You will be very sorry, I think, Miss Fitzwilliam,” she said again quietly; “it will spoil that young girl’s whole life, to repeat that story.”
“And you’ll be very glad,” cried Miss Fitzwilliam shrilly, “that I did take the pains to tell it, and to warn people against such a little impostor. How do you know that she won’t repeat this experiment again at your house?”