o impress her own
personality upon the child, but every now and then some unexpected
trait--a legacy, perhaps, from an unknown ancestor--would crop up and
make her realize how strong is the force of heredity in our natures. She
recognized that at the present crisis "preaching" would be useless, and
could only trust that patience and forbearance would indirectly bring
about the desired effect.

"Auntie," said Dorothy, as she ate her breakfast one morning, about a
month after the term began, "I don't like Hope Lawson since she got the
Wardenship. She hasn't improved."

"How's that? I thought she was a tolerably nice girl," answered Miss
Sherbourne.

"She wasn't at all bad before, but she's changed. She and Blanche Hall
and Irene Jackson go together now, and they simply sit upon all the rest
of the class."

"Rather a large order, if they do it literally!" laughed Aunt Barbara.

"Metaphorically, of course. But really, Auntie, you've no idea how nasty
they are. Hope has taken the tone that she's much above everyone else--I
don't mean because she's Warden, but socially. You see, while her father
has been Mayor they've entertained numbers of distinguished people, and
Hope's never tired of talking about them. Then she comes to school
wearing heaps of bangles and rings and things, and she makes one feel
she doesn't consider one's clothes anything to hers. She saw my blue
skirt had been lengthened, for she nudged Irene and laughed, and said
very pointedly that braid had gone out of fashion. Then she asked me
where I bought my boots. I wasn't going to tell her, so I didn't answer;
but Blanche Hall piped out: 'The Market Stores', and they both screamed
with laughter, and Hope said she always bought hers at Forster's."

"I should simply take no notice, if I were you."

"I try not to, but all the same it's annoying. Yesterday we had a
squabble about giving out the French books, and I said I should ask Miss
Pitman; then Hope said Miss Pitman would be sure to take her part,
because she often dines at their house. And the worst of it is, it's
true. Miss Pitman isn't quite fair. Hope and Blanche and Irene make the
most tremendous fuss of her, and she always favours them--she does
really. She gives them better marks for their exercises, and easier
questions in class, and waits much longer for their answers than for
anybody else's. She doesn't like me."

"Dorothy!"

"She doesn't--honestly, Auntie. Even Alison notices how down sh