“A mere child, she was then, you know,” said Rupert.
“She is just as bright, just as attractive, as clever now, more so indeed, as fine a girl in every way. But of course she was not a factory girl then. That's what you mean,” replied Patricia scornfully.
“She has found her class,” persisted Rupert. “She is all you say, but surely—”
“Yes, she is working in the new box factory. Her mother, lazy, selfish thing, took her from the High School.”
“My dear Patricia, you are quite violent,” protested her mother.
“It's true, Mamma,” continued the girl, her eyes agleam, “and now she works in the box factory while Captain Jack works in the planing mill. She is in the same class.”
“And good friends apparently,” said Rupert with a malicious little grin.
“Why not? We would have Captain Jack to dinner, but not Annette.”
Her father smiled at her. “Well done, little girl. Annette is a fine girl and is fortunate in her champion. You can have her to dinner any evening, I am quite sure.”
“Can we, Mamma?”