brown building which had long been a part of his dreams. He welcomed the
prospect of seeing a phase of its brilliant life.

They reached the Casino a few minutes before the coach started. A large
round-shouldered man, with face and frame of phlegmatic mould, occupied
the seat and swung his whip with a bored and absent air. Two or three
girls, clad in apotheosized organdie, and close hats, were already on
top of the coach. An elderly beau was assiduously attending upon a young
woman who was about to mount the ladder. She was a plain girl, with an
air of refined health, and simply clad in white.

"She's worth sixteen million dollars in her own right," said Chapman,
with a groan.

On the sidewalk, between the Casino and the coach, were two groups of
girls. One group gazed up at their friends on the coach, wishing them
good-fortune; the other gazed upon the first, eagerly and enviously.
Andrew looked from one to the other. The girls who talked to those on
the coach wore organdie frocks of simple but marvellous construction.
Shading their young pellucid eyes, their bare polished brows, were large
Leghorn hats covered with expensive feathers or flowers. Air, carriage,
complexion, manner, each was a part of the unmistakable uniform of the
New York girl of fashion. But the others? Andrew put the question to
Chapman.

"Oh, they're natives. We call them that to distinguish them from the
cottagers. They get close whenever they get a chance, and copy the
cottagers' clothes and manners. But it doesn't take a magnifying-glass
to see the difference."