You
know Aunt Elizabeth; you know what her friends are like. They think I
am queer. I can't be happy where they are."
Mrs. Nelson resorted to her smelling-bottle. "Of course my opinions
are of no weight. I only wish to remind you that it would be most
impolitic to offend your Aunt Elizabeth. She could introduce you into
the most desirable set; and even if she is a little--" she searched a
moment for a word--"a little liberal in her views, one can overlook
that on account of her generosity. She is a very influential woman,
Ruth, and a very wealthy one."
Ruth made a quick, impatient gesture. "I don't like her, Aunt Clara;
and I don't want you to ask me to go there."
Mrs. Nelson folded her napkin with tragic deliberation. "Very well,"
she said; "it is not my place to urge it. I can only point out your
duty and leave the rest to you. One thing I must speak about, and that
is your associating so familiarly with these townspeople. They are
impertinent; they take advantages, and forget who we are. Why, the
blacksmith had the audacity to refer to the dear major as 'Bob.'"
"Old Uncle Dan?" asked Ruth, laughing. "I saw him yesterday, and he
shook hands with me and said: 'Golly, sissy, how you've growed!'"
"Ruth," cried Mrs.
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