“It’s fine to be the Clement-Pells!” cried he. “Why, a Duke-Royal could not give a grander party than that. Real lace for gowns, had they! No wonder Madame Pell turns her nose up at farmers!”
“Did Clement-Pell send me any particular message?” asked the Pater.
“He sent his kind regards,” I said. “And he was sorry you and Mrs. Todhetley did not go.”
“It was a charming party,” cried Helen Whitney. “Papa and mamma put it to us, when the invitation came—would we go, or would we not go. They don’t much care for the Clement-Pells. I am glad we did go: I would not have missed it for the world. But there’s something about the Clement-Pells that tells you they are not gentlepeople.”
“Oh, that’s the show and the finery,” said Bill.
“No, I think it lies more in their tones and their manner of speaking,” said Helen.
“Johnny, are you quite sure Clement-Pell sent me no message, except kind regards, and that?”
“Quite sure, sir.”
“Well, it’s very odd.”