"Now, Kate, you know perfectly well that the Boston Derings belong to the best society in Massachusetts, and that they have always belonged to it from the first," protested Anna, getting things rather mixed in her eagerness.
"From the first!" repeated Kate, laughing derisively. "I suppose you mean from the time of Adam."
"Now, Kate, you know perfectly well what I mean. The Derings came from an old family."
"Like Sandy MacDougal."
"Eh—what—who is Sandy MacDougal?"
"Our gardener. He came straight to us from Scotland, and he's as proud as a peacock of his family. He says the MacDougals have been first-class gardeners for generations."
Myra Donaldson gave another of her giggles, but Anna did not join in her levity. Instead of that she said with dignity,—
"What I mean is an old family like the Van der Bergs."
Kate flushed rosy red. This was "a retort courteous," and for a moment she was dumb; but a moment after, she sat up in her chair, and cried laughingly,—
"The Van der Bergs are not proud, except of one thing in their family history."