“But you won’t, Julia?” said Mrs Girdwood, coaxingly, “you won’t. You know better than that: else your dear mother’s teaching has been so much waste time and trouble. But talking of time,” continued the “dear mother,” as she drew a jewelled watch from her belt, “in two hours the ball will begin. Go to your room, and get dressed.”
Cornelia, obedient to the command, tripped out into the corridor, and, gliding along it, turned into the apartment occupied by herself and cousin.
Julia, on the contrary, walked on to the balcony outside.
“Plague take the ball!” said she, raising her arms in a yawn. “I’d a thousand times rather go to bed?”
“And why, you silly child?” inquired her mother, who had followed her out.
“Mother, you know why! It will be just the same as at the last one—all alone among those impertinent people. I hate them! How I should like to humiliate them!”
“To-night you shall do that, my dear.”
“How, mamma?”
“By wearing my diamond head-dress. The last present your dear father gave me. It cost him a twenty thousand dollar cheque! If we could only ticket the price upon the diamonds, how they would glitter in their envious eyes. Never mind; I should think they’ll be sharp enough to guess it. Now, my girl, that will humiliate them!”
“Not much.”