“No, I will go myself,” Mrs. Rogers answered quickly, and added, in an undertone: “it is not as if she were my own child, and in my station in life. She is different, and must be brought up different. I mean she shall have the very best of educations. Do you know of any piano I can rent, or of any place where she can go to practise? I mean her to take lessons at once.” Alice stared wonderingly at her, and answered rather haughtily that she knew nothing about renting pianos, or places where one could practise. “Such airs!” she said to Emma, as they walked home together. “French and music with clear-starching and plain sewing. That girl will be much better off to be brought up to work than to get such notions into her head.” “Yes, but isn’t she pretty?” Emma said, remembering the flowing hair, the soft, blue eyes, and the fair, round face more distinctly than she did Fasquelle, and the airs which had so offended Alice. “Pretty enough. Such people often are when young, but they always degenerate sadly.” “Yes, but she is not like _such_ people,” Emma rejoined. “Don’t you remember what the woman said?” “Yes, I know. The child has a grandmother and forty pounds a year, but for all that I reckon she is about like Mrs. Rogers, and would much better be learning to sew than playing the piano. I wonder if she would not like to practise on your beautiful Steinway.” Alice spoke contemptuously, not from any feeling toward Gertie especially, but from contempt for those of her class who aspired to something better. They had no business to be ambitious; it was their duty to be content in the station where God had placed them. This was her theory, and she continued to dwell upon it even after she reached home, and made a good deal of fun of the girl with forty pounds a year and a grandmother, who had asked her help in French, and was going to take music lessons! CHAPTER XXV. THEY COME. It was the day after the young ladies’ visit to Vine Cottage and the third week since Mrs. Rogers’ arrival in town. I had dismissed my school earlier than usual that afternoon, and at Gertie’s request, went with her to the Schuyler Cemetery. She had heard that Mr. and Mrs. Schuyler and Godfrey were expected every day, and she wanted to have that grave looking real nice, as she was sure Mr. Godfrey would be pleased to find that somebody had cared for it. So it was for Godfrey’s sake that she weeded, and dug, and trimmed, and watered, while I sat watching her, and thinking of another young girl, who, years ago, had laid her face in the grass and wept for the dead beneath it.