"It isn't a bit prettier than it ought to be, for a prize in such a school," said Miss Macy. "It will do."
"I've seen handsomer prizes," said Miss Bentley.
"But you've got it, more ways than one, Daisy," Miss Lansing went on. "I declare! Aren't you a distinguished young lady! Madame, too! why we all used to think we behaved pretty well before company,—didn't we, St. Clair?"
"I hate favour and favouritism!" said that young lady, her upper lip taking the peculiar turn to which my attention had once been called. "Madame likes whatever is French."
"But Randolph is not French, are you, Randolph?" said Blackeyes, who was good-natured through everything.
"Madame is not French herself," said Miss Bentley.
"I hate everything at school!" St. Clair went on.
"It's too bad," said her friend. "Do you know, Daisy, St. Clair always has the prize for compositions. What made you go and write that long stuff about Rameses? the people didn't understand it, and so they thought it was fine."
"I am sure there was a great deal finer writing in Faustina's composition," said Miss Bentley.