"Dale's
fallen in love, or thinks she has, with some decent young man without
a penny or an 'eligibility' to his name--and now she's unhappy
because her parents don't approve--or because she's trying to give
him up and finds she can't. Well--" and Miss Cornelia's tight little
gray curls trembled with the vehemence of her decision, "if the young
thing ever comes to me for advice I'll give her a piece of my mind
that will surprise her and scandalize Sally Van Gorder Ogden out of
her seven senses. Sally thinks nobody's worth looking at if they
didn't come over to America when our family did--she hasn't gumption
enough to realize that if some people hadn't come over later, we'd
all still be living on crullers and Dutch punch!"
She was just stretching out her hand to ring for Lizzie when a knock
came at the door. She gathered her Paisley shawl more tightly about
her shoulders. "Who is it--oh, it's only you, Lizzie," as a
pleasant Irish face, crowned by an old-fashioned pompadour of
graying hair, peeped in at the door. "Good morning, Lizzie--I
was just going to ring for you. Has Miss Dale had breakfast--I
know it's shamefully late."
"Good morning, Miss Neily," said Lizzie, "and a lovely morning it is,
too--if that was all of it," she added somewhat tartly as she came
into the room with a little silver tray whereupon the morning mail
reposed.
We have not yet described Lizzie Allen--and she deserves
description. A fixture in the Van Gorder household since her
sixteenth year, she had long ere now attained the dignity of a
Tradition.
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