The English Orphans; Or, A Home in the New WorldHolmes, Mary Jane
General
The English Orphans; Or, A Home in the New World
Holmes, Mary Jane
Orphans -- Fiction
Ella dared not tell Lizzie, that Mary was neither polished nor
refined, so she answered, that "she could not stay this afternoon, as
Mrs. Mason, the lady with whom she lived, was in a hurry to go home."
Miss Porter looked up quickly from her embroidery, and winked slyly at
Ella in commendation of her falsehood. Jenny now came bounding in, her
cheeks glowing, and her eyes sparkling like diamonds.
"I'm late, I know," said she, "but I met Mary in the store, and I
never know when to leave her. I tried to make her come with me,
telling her that as you were her sister 'twas no matter if she weren't
invited; but she said that Mrs. Mason had accepted an invitation to
take tea with Mrs. Johnson, and she was going there too."
Instantly Lizzie Upton's eyes were fixed upon Ella, who colored
scarlet; and quickly changing the conversation, she commenced talking
about her adventure of the evening before, and again the
"magnificent-looking stranger, with his perfectly splendid eyes," was
duly described.
"Oh, yes," said Jenny, who generally managed to talk all the time,
whether she was heard or not. "Yes, Mary told me about him. He was in
her school yesterday, and if I were going to describe George Moreland,
I could not do it more accurately than she did, in describing Mr.
Stuart. You never saw George, did you?"
"No," said Ella pettishly, "but seems to me Mary is dreadful anxious
to have folks know that Mr. Stuart visited her school."
"No, she isn't," answered Jenny. "I told her that I rode past her
school-house yesterday, and should have called, had I not seen a big
man's head protruding above the window sill. Of course, I asked who he
was, and she told me about him, and how he saved you from a broken
neck."
Ella's temper, never the best, was fast giving way, and by the time
the company were all gone, she was fairly in a fit of the pouts.
Running up stairs, and throwing herself upon the bed, she burst into
tears, wishing herself dead, and saying she knew no one would care if
she were, for every body liked Mary better than they did her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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