"Well, Gladys says she is," Katherine insisted.
Gladys corrected this statement kindly but firmly: "What I said was, that, for first calls, four was perhaps too big a crowd."
"Oh, I see. That is very different. No doubt Gladys is entirely right. But you've made your first calls now, haven't you?—and hereafter Margery can go with you just as well as not, can't she, Gladys? Why, you know, really, in crowds, the more the merrier. Besides"—and Margery knew just as though she were there the kind of look her father was giving Gladys—"as a favor to me!"
Gladys was completely taken in.
"I'll be glad to do anything I can for you, Mr. Blair," she said politely. Then she added gratuitously: "Everybody ought to be kind to each other."
"That's it, exactly. As Gladys says, the big boys and girls should always be kind and gentle to the smaller ones. Now Henry was right, when he found his little sister doing something wrong, to bring her home. But next time he's going to be more gentle about it, aren't you, Henry?"
Yes, Henry was, and Margery hugged herself in wonder and amazement. Why, her father was simply workin' 'em for all they was worth! He was just jollyin' 'em to beat the band! And it was all for her sake, too! Under the magic of his words, already they were ceasing to regard her as an outcast. And Margery, like many another who has sought to overturn the pillars of society, was strangely happy at the thought of being able once again to mingle with her own kind.
"But, papa," she heard Alice ask, "what'll you say to Freddy Larkin's father on the car?"
"What will I say to Freddy Larkin's father on the car, Alice?"
"Yes, papa, when he—Gladys—she says he'll make fun of you on account of Margery."