We never knew her to say: these card-playing, fox-hunting people are our inferiors. But she might as well. We read her thought.
When the Marley children went by on ponies, when the Reuters bought their third motor-car, Bettina and I stifled longing and curiosity with the puerilities of infant arrogance: Our mother doesn't mean to return your visit. She doesn't want us to 'sociate with your children.
In our hearts we longed for the society specially of Dora Marley. Betty used to slip out and show Alexandra to Dora. Alexandra was Betty's most glorious doll. When the others couldn't find Betty I knew where to look. I went secretly, a roundabout way through the shrubberies, to bring Betty in, reluctant and looking back at Dora: "Come again to-morrow?"
One day Dora shook her head.
"Why not?"
She was going back to school. "Aren't you going back to school?" she asked.
"Oh, no," I said, "we don't go to school."
Dora seemed not only surprised, but inclined to pity us.
"You like having to go to school!" I said.
