'Oh Stella!' cried Vava, flushing crimson and looking very vexed.
'What is the matter, Vava?' exclaimed Stella in astonishment.
'That was one of the girls in my form, and she heard you!' protested Vava.
Stella looked as vexed as Vava; she would not for worlds hurt any one's feelings willingly, and she knew too that she ought not to have said what she did; but pride was Stella's besetting sin, and she hated having to mix with people whom she considered her inferiors, and her present life and surroundings only made her prouder.
'I am sorry; I forgot we were so near the school. Perhaps she did not understand me. You say the girls find your Scotch accent difficult to follow?' suggested the girl.
'Well, good-bye,' said Vava; and went off one way, while Stella turned down the street leading to her office without further comment.
When she had left her sister, Stella thought no more of her unfortunate speech. It had been unwise; but, after all, it was quite true. And if the girl had overheard it all, the worst she could think was that Vava's sister was proud, and that she thought herself superior to the pupils of the City School for Girls, which last, Stella privately thought, they could see for themselves.
But Vava did not forget it, and looked very gloomy as she walked along, her eyes looking straight in front of her, not seeing any one.
'Hallo, Vava Wharton! Where are you—in the moon, wool-gathering?' inquired a hearty voice beside her, and a rather stout, common-looking girl, who, however, was nicely dressed and had a pleasant face, patted her on the back.
'Oh Doreen! you startled me. I was thinking!' ejaculated Vava.