'It's all very well for George to talk; but it's not so easy to sit down and tell a girl you are not a lady, and, what's more, that your parents are not gentlefolks,' said Sarah aloud to herself.
Then she started again, and wrote a friendly invitation, without any embarrassing explanations or apologies.
'George may be able to say that kind of thing in a gentlemanly way—he always does say the right sort of thing—but I shall just chance it,' she muttered to herself, as she sealed up the letter and sent it off by Naomi, without showing it to any one or taking any one's advice upon it. To have done so would have been quite contrary to Sarah's habits, for she was of a very independent character, and the circumstances of her whole life no doubt fostered this characteristic.
'So we've got a grand young lady from London coming up to stay with us plain folk,' said Mr Mark Clay when he saw his daughter at dinner that evening.
'I've asked one of my schoolfellows to come to stay with me; but I don't know that she will come, and I don't know that you will think her grand. She dresses very plainly,' replied Sarah.
'Then she'll be all the more willing to come if she's poor,' said Mr Clay.
'She's not in the least poor. It's not the fashion for schoolgirls to dress very grandly,' said Sarah hastily.
'Nonsense! People dress as they can afford; and, I'll be bound, I could buy up her father twice over,' said Mark Clay in his boastful way.
Sarah's lips curled scornfully. 'You couldn't buy his rank. I hope to goodness she won't come,' she said.
No notice was taken of this remark, which was put down to Sarah's contradictoriness, and no one knew how heartily the girl repented of her invitation.