“Yes, of course. Why are they so down on Elsie?”
“Oh, only because she wasn’t born in Boston!”
“Really? Is that all?”
“Yes; that is, I mean, the Webbs don’t think the Powells in their own social rank. Nobody could dislike Elsie, personally; she’s the sweetest thing in the world!”
“Of course she is, but she never seems to hit it off with Friend Henrietta.”
“It’s Henrietta’s fault entirely! Elsie has been like an angel to her, but Miss Webb is always haughty and superior. She has never been reconciled to the match and never will be!”
“Well, I hope old Kimmy will turn up, and the match will come off,—and in time to save the inheritance!”
“The match will come off, if Kimball can be found, whether it’s in time to save the inheritance or not!”
This announcement was made by Elsie herself, who suddenly appeared in boudoir robe and cap. “I heard you,” she went on, “and I came in to tell you my decision,—to state my platform!”
Her eyes shone with excitement, her cheeks were flushed and she was trembling nervously.