Goldthwaite, a great pet of hers,--Mr. Aaron Goldthwaite's daughter,
in the town,--was often up among them all.

The Holabirds were asked in to tea-drinkings, and to croquet, now and
then, especially at the Haddens', whom they knew best; but they were
not on "in and out" terms, from morning to night, as these others were
among themselves; for one thing, the little daily duties of their life
would not allow it. The "jolly times" on the Hill were a kind of
Elf-land to them, sometimes patent and free, sometimes shrouded in the
impalpable and impassable mist that shuts in the fairy region when it
wills to be by itself for a time.

There was one little simple sesame which had a power this way for
them, perhaps without their thinking of it; certainly it was not
spoken of directly when the invitations were given and accepted.
Ruth's fingers had a little easy, gladsome knack at music; and I
suppose sometimes it was only Ruth herself who realized how
thoroughly the fingers earned the privilege of the rest of her bodily
presence. She did not mind; she was as happy playing as Rosamond and
Barbara dancing; it was all fair enough; everybody must be wanted for
something; and Ruth knew that her music was her best thing. She wished
and meant it to be; Ruth had plans in her head which her fingers were
to carry out.

But sometimes there was a slight flavor in attention, that was not
quite palatable, even to Ruth's pride. These three girls had each her
own sort of dignity. Rosamond's measured itself a good deal by the
accepted dignity of others; Barbara's insisted on its own standard;
why shouldn't they--the Holabirds--settle anything? Ruth hated to have
theirs hurt; and she did not like subserviency, or courting favor. So