Shirley Watkins

“ A lean young man, with sleek, blond hair, a weak chin, and the free-and-easy, all-conquering manner of a youth who has been spoiled by girls ever since he put on long trousers and learned to run his own car, he looked at Alma with that look of startled admiration which to a young girl is a sweeter flattery than any that words can frame. She looked up at Nancy with a glance of joyous, innocent triumph, and then, putting her plump little hand on her partner's arm, and instantly meeting his gallantry with the pretty, utterly unconscious coquetry of a born flirt, she moved off. ”

“ Nancy remarked to Alma, when this young lady had indicated their room to them, and left them with a curt announcement that they should go down-stairs in fifteen minutes.
"She is sort of snob-looking," agreed Alma, throwing her hat on her narrow white bed. "But there's no sense in being prejudiced against a person right away. Goodness, this room is chilly. I wish we knew somebody here. I hate being a new girl. Everyone else sounds as if they are having such a good time. I feel dreadfully out of it, don't you? And all the girls look at you as if they were wondering who in the world you are." ”

“ There was an irrepressible chuckle from the window embrasure, where, concealed by the long, dark-red curtains, Jane was curled, with a book, and a half-sucked orange.
Mrs. Deacon turned swiftly, her lorgnette levelled on the younger Miss Lambert like a microscope.
“Ah, Jane!” she observed a little coldly. Jane stood up respectfully, concealing her vulgar orange under her pinafore. “What are you laughing at, my dear?” asked Mrs. Deacon suspiciously.
“I thought it would be funny for Amelia to go as a race-horse,” replied Jane, simply, quite at her ease under Mrs. Deacon’s prolonged stare. ”

“ And Paul promptly expanded his mouth into the empty grin of a comic mask. “Only I can’t remember to grin while I count out spoonfuls of cinnamon. It’s like trying to pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time.”
“In a little while you won’t have to think so hard while you are measuring your ingredients. I do it by instinct,” said Aunt Gertrude, proudly. And Paul smiled at her air of naive vanity.
“Oh, you are a very remarkable person, Aunt Gertrude,” he said gravely.
“Tut! You mustn’t laugh at me, you impudent boy,” said Mrs. Lambert, shaking her head, and pretending to be severe. ”

“ What does it matter even if you don't pass?" said Mildred. "For goodness' sake don't you turn into a grind like Nancy. One thing I refuse to do is to room with anyone who's studious."
"But I'll flunk, as sure as fate," objected Alma, "and—and I don't want to, Milly."
"You're a bit late finding that out. It's not going to do you a bit of good to stuff now."
"Don't your father and mother mind if you don't pass?"
"Oh, Mother doesn't care a bit. She is always worrying herself to death for fear I'm overstudying. Dad sometimes rows at me about my bad marks, but Mother always takes my part. ”

“ An hour later poor Carl was far past caring whether “they” made a fuss over him or not. But indeed the worst part of it was that there was very little fuss made at all. His room was so quiet that the chirping of the birds in the budding trees outside his window, the sound of voices in the street below could all be heard distinctly, and yet Aunt Gertrude and Mr. Lambert sat beside his bed, and Janey was there, clinging to her father’s hand, and Paul sat half hidden in the little window embrasure, staring out soberly at the fading sky. ”

“ And you're sure to have a good time, no matter what you wear, Alma."
"Oh, she can't go if her clothes aren't just right, Nancy—that's all there is to it," said Mrs. Prescott.
"Clothes," declared Alma, her voice quavering between tears and indignation, "are the most important things in the world. It doesn't matter how pretty a girl is—if her dress is dowdy, no one will notice her."
"And you must remember, Nancy, that she will be compared with girls who will be sure to be wearing the freshest, smartest and daintiest things," added Mrs. Prescott. Nancy began to laugh. ”

“ Paul picked up a stout log and flung it onto the smouldering ashes, and in a few moments, a bright flame crackled up, sending its ruddy light into every corner of the room.
Everyone is familiar with the exquisite feeling of sympathy, which food, produced at just the right moment, can excite between the most hostile natures, and over their cups of cocoa, Jane and Paul, who had never been really hostile, began to see each other in a new light. For the first time they talked with unguarded friendliness, and gradually Paul became more confiding, and Jane listened with her usual eager interest. ”

“ Certainly, then, if she grows cool with you, she will respect you more. I—I hate to see my sister so absolutely a—a—I mean I hate to see you doing blindly everything Mildred does. Because she thinks it silly and 'high-brow' to study hard, you don't study. I hate to see you so afraid to lose a friend that you will go against your own conscience and judgment just to keep her good-will. It's just—snobbery, Alma—and it's worse than even Mildred's snobbery, because it's cowardly, while hers is just—impudent."
"I won't let you say such things, Nancy," cried Alma, shaking off her sister's hand. ”

“ I'd rather die before I'd play the role of little sister to the rich." Her voice began to quiver, and she had a wretched feeling that she was very near tears—tears not of anger so much as of genuine unhappiness. She felt as if every word she uttered was doing more damage, and her heart ached because she was quarrelling with Alma, and because Alma was changing more every day. She longed to throw her arms around her sister, and kiss away the memory of every word she had uttered, but stubborn pride, as much a fault with Nancy as a virtue, held her back. ”

“ I’m sure if you beg hard, your mother would let you,” wheedled Annie Lee. Lily shook her head.
“I don’t think so. And I’m afraid mamma thinks its awfully bold of me even to think of such a thing.”
“There’s nothing bold about a Spanish dancer. Just dashing,” said Dolly.
“But Lily isn’t at all dashing,” remarked Amelia.
“I want to be, though,” said Lily suddenly. “I’d like to be very, very dashing just for once in my life. I want to know what it feels like. I’m sick of being demure and lady-like. Yes, I am! And I want to wear a comb in my hair and scarlet heels.” ”

“ On second thought, Peterson did not feel wounded; he felt rather like shaking dear Mr. Tim.
“Say what you like, that’s no way to go on, now. Life’s too easy for him, and that’s the truth, though I don’t say I wouldn’t hate to see it hard for him. But to take on so, just because a young lady was pleased to make up her mind not to have him! ’Tisn’t every young feller has the leisure to sit and mope himself into the vapors over a chip in his heart, that’ll be whole again in three months.” Then Peterson grinned. ”

“ Nancy's eyes sparkled. Alma was silent. There were times when Nancy's fierce, stubborn pride frightened her—sometimes the way her sister's lips folded together, and her small, cleft chin was lifted, made her fancy that there might be a resemblance between Nancy and old Mr. Prescott. Alma was the butterfly, and Nancy the bee; the butterfly no doubt wonders why the bee so busily stores away the honey won by thrift and industry, and, in all probability, the bee reads many a lesson to the gay-winged idler who clings to the sunny flower. ”

“ Nancy clutched Alma, and turned her head away from the shimmering, pearl-tinted fabric. For all her stiff level-headedness, she was only human, and a girl with a healthy, ardent longing for beautiful finery; prudent she was, but prudence soon reaches its limits when the pressure of feminine vanity and exquisite luxury is brought to bear upon it. There was only one course of resistance. Nancy fled.
"Now, slippers." Alma skipped along beside her, hugging her precious bundles, with shining eyes, and cheeks aglow. "I think I love slippers better than anything in the world. ”

“ Aunt Gertrude’s wedding dress was made of silk, with a tight little bodice and a huge skirt, brave with flounces and gathers; and above its mellow ivory-colored tones Elise’s flaxen hair shone like gold. Lily, Dolly and Annie Lee were loud in their raptures over her plump, blooming prettiness, but Amelia looked on with a rather strained smile.
“Now, put it back in the box, or you’ll soil it,” said Annie Lee. “And I shall help Janey with the tea; you can’t do half a dozen things at once.” ”