we went back to Barmouth.

When I appeared in school with my new brooch and ring the girls
crowded round me.

"What does that pin represent, whose estate?" inquired one, with envy
in her voice.

"Don't the ring make the blood rush into your hand?" asked another;
"it looks so."

"Does it?" I answered; "I'll hold up my hand in the air, as you do, to
make it white."

"What is your father's business?" asked Elmira Sawyer, "is he a
tailor?"

Her insolence made my head swim; but I did not reply. When recess was
over a few minutes afterward, I cried under the lid of my desk. These
girls overpowered me, for I could not conciliate them, and had no idea
of revenge, believing that their ridicule was deserved. But I thought
I should like to prove myself respectable. How could I? Grand'ther
_was_ a tailor, and I could not demean myself by assuring them that my
father was a gentleman.

In the course of a month Aunt Mercy had my pink calico made up by
the best dressmaker in Barmouth. When I put it on I thought I looked
better than I ever had before, and went into school triumphantly
with it. The girls surveyed me in silence; but criticised me. At last
Charlotte Alden asked me in a whisper if old Mr. Warren made my dress.