for us Americans to try to hang on by a hair to the main trunk of the
family tree, when all the world knows we belong on the outside
branches."

There was no answer to this and the dressing proceeded in a silence as
profound as the morning's, until Mary saw that Ethelinda was struggling
in a frantic effort to free herself from the hooks of her dress which
had caught in her hair.

"Wait," she called, hurrying to the rescue. "Let me hook it for you.
What a perfect dream of a gown it is!" she added in frank admiration,
as she deftly fastened it up the back. "It looks like the kind in the
fairy tales that are woven out of moon-beams. Here, let me fix your
hair, where the hooks pulled it loose."

She tucked in the straggling locks with a few soft pats and touches
which, with the compliment, mollified Ethelinda a trifle, in spite of
her resentment over the former speech. But it still rankled, and she
could not forbear saying a little spitefully, "Thanks! What a soft,
light touch you have. Quite like a maid I had last year. By the way, her
name was Mary. And it was awfully funny. It happened at that time that
every maid in the house was named that, and whenever mamma called 'Mary'
five or six of them would come running. I used to tell my maid that if I
had as common a name as that I'd change it."

Something in the way she said it set Mary's teeth on edge. She had never
known any one before who purposely said disagreeable things. She often
said them herself in her blundering, impetuous way, but was heartily
sorry as soon as they were uttered. Now for the first time in her life
she wanted to retaliate by saying the meanest thing she could think of.