front of her. Neither of the ladies noticed her, but she recognized Mrs.
Atherton at once and guessed that her companion was the young lady from
Collingwood, who, rumor said, was soon to marry her guardian, Mr.
Richard Harrington, although he was old enough to be her father.

Dolly scanned both the ladies very closely, noting every article of
their costumes from their plain linen collars and cuffs to their quiet
dresses of gray, which seemed so much more in keeping with the dusty
cars than her buff and purple plaid.

'I ain't like them, and never shall be,' she said to herself, with a
bitter sense of her inferiority pressing upon her. 'I ain't like them,
and never shall be, if I live to be a hundred. I wish we were not going
to be grand. I shall never get used to it,' and the hot tears sprang to
her eyes as she longed to be back in the kitchen where she had worked so
hard.

But Dolly did not know then how readily people can forget the life of
toil behind them and adapt themselves to one of luxury and ease; and
with her the adaptability commenced in some degree the moment
Shannondale station was reached, and she saw the handsome carriage
waiting for them. A carriage finer far and more modern than the one from
Collingwood, in which Mrs. Atherton and the young lady took their seats,
laughing and chatting so gayly that they did not see the woman in the
big plaid who stood watching them with a rising feeling of jealousy and
resentment as she thought of Mrs. Atherton, 'She does not even notice
me.'

But when the Tracy carriage drew up, Grace Atherton saw and recognized
her, and whispered, in an aside to her companion: