"Yes, I thought so when we met her the other day at 'Mary's Delight,' It was nice of them to bring her, wasn't it? She told me that she was very happy with the Goldsboroughs, that the children were dears, and that she was quite like a daughter in the house."
"Julia would make her feel so. She is one of the kindest-hearted women in the world, and not the least of a snob. They are coming over to speak to us."
The two groups met half way, and walked to the reception room together. Freddy, the eldest daughter, was bound for a theatre party and must hurry away. "She was named Fredericka, for her grandfather," Mrs. Goldsborough explained. The other little girls, Julia and Mary, sat one each side of Linda, on the sofa; Miss Carroll drew up a stool opposite, while Mrs. Goldsborough and Miss Ri settled themselves further away for a good talk.
There were ever so many things going on in the city, the girls told Linda. One of their cousins was to have a tea, another had asked them to a box party, a third to a small dance. "We won't be out for two or three years yet," said Mary; "but we shall have just as good a time as Fred, if she is a débutante." Then there was much talk of this and that one who had come out that season; of Fred's engagements and the attention she was having, the twittering chat which young girls like. Miss Carroll smiled indulgently at the little chatterers, but once or twice gave Linda a look, as much as to say, "We know what it is worth." However, Linda enjoyed this glimpse into a frivolous world and went upstairs with Miss Ri without a thought to sadden her.
There was a morning's shopping, luncheon at a quaint little place on Charles Street, a return to the hotel, an afternoon with the friends who had been notified of their arrival and who called promptly, then the theatre, and Linda's first day in the city was so full that she dropped to sleep with never a thought of Sandbridge and the friends there who might be missing her.
The next day Miss Ri reluctantly consented to a call on Grace. The house where the Johnsons lived was in a new, rather than a fashionable part of the city. The room into which the maid showed them was pretentiously furnished, crowded with ornaments, ugly though expensive, the walls lined with poor pictures in gaudy frames. Money value, rather than good taste, was the keynote of the establishment, it was easily seen.