The girl, who was extremely pretty, carried herself well, and dressed with cheap fastidiousness, colored.
“I don't see what we have to think about sets for,” said she. “I guess way back the Peels were as good as the Lloyds. We're in a free country, where one is as good as another, ain't we?”
“No one is as good as another, except in the sight of the Lord, in any country on the face of this earth,” said Abby.
“If you are as good in your own sight, I don't see that it makes much difference about the sight of other human beings,” said Ellen. “I guess that's what makes a republic, anyway.”
Sadie Peel gave a long, bewildered look at her, then she turned to Abby.
“Do you know where I can get somebody to do accordion-plaiting for me?” she asked.
“No,” said Abby. “I never expect to get to the height of accordion-plaiting.”
“I know where you can,” said another girl, coming up. She had light hair, falling in a harsh, uncurled bristle over her forehead; her black gown was smeared with paste, and even her face and hands were sticky with it.
“There's a great splash of paste on your nose, Hattie Wright,” said Abby.
The girl took out a crumpled handkerchief and began rubbing her nose absently while she went on talking about the accordion-plaiting.