D o you rich trophies bring
I n gentle words that friendship gain
E ntail no pain or sting.
Most of us have known or heard of such a lesser tragedy as the following, and thanked our stars it had not happened to one of our own kin.
“What are you crying for?” asked the manageress of an hotel.
The girl she addressed was a fragile, pretty creature of nineteen or twenty, looking more as if a puff of wind would blow her away than as if she was capable of doing the dirty work of a kitchenmaid.
“Oh, nothing, thank you,” replied the tearful voice. “I hurt my finger, but it will be all right in a moment.”
The manageress eyed her critically. The polite reply, the refined speech and tone of voice, were all so unlike anything she was accustomed to in the kitchen department that they struck her as strange.
Then she noticed that, while the girl’s cotton sleeves were tucked up above her elbow, her arms were round, white, and plump, the hands small and pretty. Turning to the chef standing behind her, she remarked: