Agnes, not only disappointed, but deeply mortified and angry, turned hastily to Dora Robson, and gave vent to her feelings by remarking in a perfectly clear undertone,—­

“The worst of a place like this is that you meet such common people, with nothing to recommend them but their money.”

Dora and Amy flushed with annoyance at this speech; but Tilly was so disgusted and indignant that she broke away from them all with an impatient exclamation, and started off across the lawn towards the house.  Halfway across she met Will Wentworth, with Tom Raymond,—­a great chum of his, who had just arrived by the noon boat.

“Hullo, what’s up, what’s the matter?” asked Will, as he perceived the expression of Tilly’s face.

Tilly stopped, and in a few graphic words told her story, winding up with, “Wasn’t it horrid of Agnes?”

“Horrid?  It was beastly,” sputtered Will. “She to call people common!”

“But that girl is not common,” said Tilly.  “She may belong to people who have just made a lot of money,—­for that’s what Agnes meant to fling out,—­but there isn’t any vulgar common show of it.  Look at her, how plainly she’s dressed, and how quiet she is.”

“Wonder what Agnes is up to now?  Let’s go and see,” said Will, wheeling about and nodding to Tilly and Tom to follow.

As they came along together, Will a little ahead, Tom Raymond was quite silent until they approached the group collected around the Indians; then he suddenly ejaculated, “Well, I never!”

“What?  What do you mean?—­what—­who do you see?” asked Tilly, very much surprised at this outbreak.

“Is that the girl—­the Smith girl you were telling about—­there by the tree—­holding a basket?” asked Tom.

“Yes; why—­do you know her?”

“N-o—­but—­I was thinking—­she doesn’t look common, does she?”

“Of course she doesn’t, only plainly dressed.”

“Yes, that’s all;” and Tom gave a little odd chuckling laugh.

“How queer Tom Raymond is!” thought Tilly.  She thought he was queerer still, as she caught his furtive glances toward that Smith girl.  Presently Miss Tilly saw that the Smith girl was regarding Tom with rather a puzzled observation.

“I see how it is,” reflected Miss Tilly; “they have met before somewhere, and Tom doesn’t want to know her now.  He thinks she isn’t fine enough for this Boston set, though he owns that she doesn’t look common.  Oh, I do believe that Will Wentworth is the only one here who has any sense or heart.”

As Tilly arrived at this conclusion of her reflections, Will came running up to her.

“Come,” he said, “there’s no fun here.  Let’s go and have a game of tennis.”

“But where’s Agnes?  I thought you wanted to see what she was doing.”

“She’s gone off in a huff because I asked her if she’d bought any baskets,” answered Will, grinning.  Tilly laughed, and Tom Raymond gave another odd little chuckle.  Then the three strolled away to the tennis ground.  As they were passing the rustic bench under the tree where Mrs. Smith and her niece were sitting, Tilly took a sudden resolution, and, stopping abruptly, said,—­