“I am going to New York to take my music lesson,” she answered, touching the roll underneath her arm.
“Do you always dress yourself out like that to take your music lesson? Perhaps you are trying to strike up a flirtation with Professor What’s-his-name,” sneered the haughty beauty.
Poor Star glanced down at her offending dress, an indignant flush rising to her cheek.
The entire cost of it had been less than what Josephine was accustomed to pay for even a pair of shoes; and yet she knew, without being told, that the gay belle, with all her expensive trappings, had never looked half so fresh and lovely as she did at that moment.
Josephine realized it also, and her heart was filled with bitter envy and malice.
“Go back up stairs and change your gown,” she continued, angrily, without giving Star an opportunity to reply to her taunting remarks. “You have no business to go to the city, dressed as if you were going to a party.”
Star’s small head came up like a flash of light; her eyes darkened and glowed with a sense of wounded pride and injustice.
She stood still a moment, her scarlet lips compressed until only a narrow line of red was visible; then, in a calm, clear, but very decided tone, she said:
“You have no right to lay such commands upon me, Miss Richards, and I shall not obey you.”
“You insolent beggar! what do you mean by answering me in this way?” began the astonished girl; but Star had glided down the steps, and was walking with a proud, elastic step down the avenue; consequently her rage was expended upon the empty air.