“Yes; but how does Agnes avoid her?  She stiffens herself up and curls her lips when the girl goes by, as if there was something contaminating about her; and one night when we were in the music-room and Miss Smith was playing and singing ‘Mrs. Brady’ for us, Agnes came in with Amy and made a great fuss and noise, disturbing everybody in pretending to hunt up one of her own music-books; and when I asked her to be quieter, she said something horrid about ‘low common songs,’ and ‘Mrs. Brady’ isn’t a low common song; and the other morning, when Pete, the little dog, ran up to her on the piazza, she pushed him away from her in such a disagreeable manner—­and so it has gone on every day, and I think it’s a shame, and such a nice girl as Miss Smith is too.  I told grandmother all about it,—­the whole story,—­and she says it is Agnes who is vulgar and not Miss Smith, and that she never would have brought me here if she had known that a girl who could behave like that was to be in the house; and you can tell Miss Agnes Brendon this, if you like, and you can tell her too that she’ll only make us stand by Miss Smith stancher than ever by persecuting her as she does.”

“I shall tell her nothing of the kind, and there’s no such thing as persecution anyway,—­that’s ridiculous.  Agnes is very exclusive,—­the Brendons all are,—­and she doesn’t like to make acquaintances with common people, that’s all.”

“Common people!  Miss Smith isn’t any more common than you or I. She’s a very ladylike girl.—­much more ladylike and nice, and nicer-looking too, than Agnes.”

“Nicer looking with those plain frocky dresses, and her hair all pulled back without the sign of a crimp or curl!” and Dora burst into a jeering laugh.

“Oh, she isn’t all fussed up, I know, as most of us girls are; but her clothes are of the very finest materials,—­I’ve noticed that.”

“And that stuffy old aunt’s clothes are of the finest material, I suppose; and the little yellow dog’s coat is as fine as a King Charles spaniel’s,” jeered Dora.

“Stuffy old aunt!  She isn’t stuffy in the least.  She’s a little old-fashioned; that’s all.  Grandmother has taken quite a fancy to her.”

Dora smiled a very provoking smile as she said,—­

“Perhaps the Pelhams, when they come, will take a fancy to her too, and to that pretty name of Peggy.”

The hot color rushed to Tilly’s cheeks and the tears to her eyes as she turned away.  She knew perfectly well that Dora was thinking:  “Oh, your grandmother is only another old woman a good deal like Mrs. Smith,—­what is her judgment worth?”

Dora was a little ashamed of herself as Tilly left her.  Indeed, she had been a little ashamed of herself for some time,—­ever since, in fact, she had ranged herself on Agnes’s side after the tennis affair; but once having taken that side she was determined to stick to it, and to believe that it was the right side, in spite of some qualms of conscience.