"Maybe it's a case of 'birds of a feather,'" said Elise, who had heard
part of the conversation. "Ethelinda aspires to a family tree and a
coat-of-arms, too. I saw her box of stationery spilled out over your
table when I was in your room yesterday, and it had quite an imposing
crest on the paper--a unicorn or griffin or something, pawing away at a
crown."

Mary pursed her lips together thoughtfully. "That might explain it.
Maybe she thinks I'm only a sort of wild North American Indian because
our place is named Ware's Wigwam, and that it is beneath her dignity to
be intimate with her inferiors. But if that is what is the matter, she's
just a snob, and can't be very sure of her own position."

"She is only sixteen," Betty reminded her, "even if she does look so
mature and imposing. I have an idea that the way she has been brought up
is responsible for her attitude now. It has given her a false standard
of values. Now, Mary, here is a chance for you to do some real
missionary work, and teach her that '_the rank is but the guinea's
stamp_,' and that we're all pure gold, 'for a' that and a' that,' no
matter if we are not members of the British peerage."

"I wouldn't mind telling her anything if she were a real heathen," was
Mary's earnest answer. "But trying to break through her reserve is a
harder task than butting a hole through the Chinese wall. You've no idea
how haughty she is. Well, I don't care--much."

She cared enough, however, to take a lively interest in her room-mate's
pedigree, after seeing the crest on her note paper. Later in the morning
when some literature references made it necessary for her to go to the
library, she looked around for a certain fat volume she had pored over