“You see,” Katie hastened, “Miss Forrest and I were once associated with one of those things which wasn’t very well conducted.  I fear it—­prejudiced us.”

“Evidently,” was Miss Osborne’s reply.

“Though to be sure,” Kate further propitiated, resentment at having to do so growing with the propitiation, “that is very narrow of us.  I am sure your club will be quite different.  We may come to the garden party?”

Katie followed her guest to her car.  “I am hoping it will be cooler soon,” she said.  “My friend is here to grow stronger, and this heat is quite unnerving her.”

Miss Osborne accepted it with polite, “I trust she will soon be much better.  Yes, the heat is trying.”

Katie did not return to Ann, but sat at the head of the steps, looking across the river.

She was genuinely offended.  She knew nothing more unpardonable than to embarrass one’s hostess.  She grew hard in contemplation of it.  Nothing justified it;—­nothing.

A few girls were still coming from the candy factory.  Miss Osborne’s car had crossed the bridge and was speeding toward her beautiful home up the river—­just the home for a garden party.  The last group of girls, going along very slowly, had to step back for the machine to rush by.

Katie forgot her own grievance in wondering about those girls who had waited for the Osborne car to pass.

She knew where Miss Osborne was going, where and how she lived; she was wondering where the girls not enjoying the breeze always to be found in motoring were going, what they would do when they got there, and what they thought of the efforts to help them “manage better” on their dollar or less a day.

It made her rise and return to Ann.

Ann, too, was looking across the river at the girls who had given Miss Osborne right of way.  Two very red spots burned in Ann’s cheeks and her eyes, also, were feverish.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have spoken that way to your friend,” she began, but less contritely than defiantly.

Katie flushed.  She had been prepared to understand and be kind.  But she was not equal to being scoffed at, she who had been so embarrassed—­and betrayed.

“It was certainly not very good form,” she said coolly.

“And of course that’s all that matters,” said Ann shrilly.  “It’s just good form that matters—­not the truth.”

“Oh I don’t see that you achieved any great thing for the truth, Ann.  Anyhow, rudeness is no less rude when called truth.”

“Garden parties!” choked Ann.

“I am not giving the garden party, Ann,” said Katie long-sufferingly.  “I was doing nothing more than being civil to a guest—­against rather heavy odds.”

“You were pretending to think it was lovely.  But of course that’s good form!”

Her perilously bright eyes had so much the look of an animal pushed into a corner that Katie changed.  “Come, Ann dear, let’s not quarrel with each other just because it has been a disagreeable day, or because Caroline Osborne may have a mistaken idea of doing good—­and I a mistaken idea of being pleasant.  I promised Worth a little spin on the river before dinner.  You’ll come?  It will be cooling.”