All agreed, though without any special enthusiasm. They were ashamed of the part they had played, but after all, Maria was Maria.
“_Tiens_, la Moriole!” It was Jacqueline de la Tour de Provence who spoke, in her languid, graceful drawl. “Why this sudden interest in Maria,--for thee, I mean? Thou hast never shown it before. She is _bourgeoise_ to a degree! She cannot belong to even the lowest order of _noblesse_!”
“We are Americans!” said Honor shortly. “We have no _noblesse_. And if we had--how about _noblesse oblige_, Jacqueline?”
Jacqueline blushed slightly, and murmured something about her House; but it was noticed that she was moderately civil to Maria, when the latter, still depressed, and sniffing at intervals, appeared at dinner.
“But, Maria,” cried Honor, dragging her into a corner after dinner, “you simply _must_ buck up! You _can’t_ go round cringing and sniffing like--like a poodle that’s just been shaved! Hold up your head! Look them in the eye! Show them that you are as good as they are!”
“But I am not!” said poor Maria, who did seem to be made of putty, as Patricia once said, and poor putty at that.
“You _are_! a great deal better than some of them. Buck up, I tell you!”
“_Bokope!_” Soeur Séraphine, passing, paused with a smile of inquiry. “Eet ees to me a word wholly new, la Moriole. It means--vat, for example?”
“It’s--it’s _argot_, my Sister!” she confessed meekly. “Slang, you know, we call it. It means to--to collect oneself--to--to take a brace--oh, dear! that’s slang too! I’m afraid ‘buck up’ is really what it does mean, my Sister. Papa used to say it!” she added timidly.
“_Tiens!_ If thy honored father used the expression, it is without doubt a valuable one. _Bokope!_ it is to remember, that!”
She passed on, leaving Honor struggling between amusement and remorse.
The days passed quickly, as days do; they missed Patricia woefully. Even Stephanie confessed to missing her, though she declared, pacing the Garden, arm in arm with her newly-recovered Moriole, that this was nothing compared with the desolation of last week.
“Patricia has behaved nobly, I grant that!” she said. “I forgive her much, even her pride, which is insufferable. But to have thee back, my cherished one, that makes to bound the heart; I could better do without all than to lose thee, my Moriole!”