"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" said Patty. "I shall begin to cultivate
the habit at once."

"Do," said Marian; "I'm sure it would be becoming to you, but perhaps
hard on your gloves."

"Well, there's one thing certain," said Patty:

"I would really rather put my finger in my mouth than to crook out my
little finger in that absurd way that so many people do. Why, Florence
Douglass never lifts a cup of tea that she doesn't crook out her little
finger, and then think she's a very pattern of all that's elegant."

"I know it," said Marian. "I think it's horrid, too; it's nothing but
airs. I know lots of people who do it when they're all dressed up, but
who never think of such a thing when they are alone at home."

"I wonder what the real reason is?" said Patty thoughtfully.

"It is an announcement of refinement," said Mr. Fairfield, falling in
with his daughter's train of thought; "and, as we all know, the
refinement that needs to be announced is no refinement at all. We
therefore see that the conspicuously curved little finger is but an
advertisement of a specious and flimsy imitation of aristocracy."

"Papa, you certainly do know it all," said Patty. "I haven't any words by
me just now, long enough to answer you with, but I quite agree with you
in spirit."