"Who were you with all the forenoon?" Mrs. Starling asked suddenly.
"You went off and left me with the people from Elmfield. I was taking care of them."
"I saw you come out of the field with them. What a popinjay that Masters girl is, to be sure! and Mrs.—what's her name?—the other, is not much better. Soft as oil, and as slippery. How on earth did they come to Bear Hill?"
"I suppose they thought it would be fun," Diana said with constrained voice.
"Don't let anybody get sweet on you there, Diana Starling; not if you know what is good for you."
"Where, mother?"
"There. At Elmfield. Among the Knowlton folks."
"What's the matter with them?" Diana asked; but not without a touch of amusement in her voice, which perhaps turned the edge of her mother's suspicion. She went on, however, energetically.
"Poor and proud!" she said. "Poor and proud. And that's about the meanest kind of a mixture there is. I don't mind if folks has something to go on—why, airs come nat'ral to human nature; I can forgive 'em anyhow, for I'm as proud as they be. But when they hain't anything—and when they pile up their pretensions so high they can't carry 'em steady—for my part I'd rather keep out o' their way. They're no pleasure to me; and if they think they're an honour, it's an opinion I don't share. Gertrude Masters ain't no better than a balloon; full of gas; she hain't weight enough to keep her on her feet; and Mrs.—what's her name?—Genevy—she's as smooth as an eel. And Evan is a monkey."
"Mother! what makes you say so?"