"Is that your best frock, Miss Hilton?" asked Mrs. Mason, in a
half-dissatisfied tone, turning Ruth about; for it was only her
Sunday black silk, and was somewhat worn and shabby.
"Yes, ma'am," answered Ruth quietly.
"Oh! indeed. Then it will do" (still the half-satisfied tone).
"Dress, young ladies, you know, is a very secondary
consideration. Conduct is everything. Still, Miss Hilton, I think
you should write and ask your guardian to send you some money for
another gown. I am sorry I did not think of it before.
"I do not think he would send any if I wrote," answered Ruth, in
a low voice.
"He was angry when I wanted a shawl, when the cold weather set
in."
Mrs. Mason gave her a little push of dismissal, and Ruth fell
into the ranks by her friend, Miss Wood.
"Never mind, Ruthie; you're prettier than any of them," said a
merry, good-natured girl, whose plainness excluded her from any
of the envy of rivalry.
"Yes; I know I am pretty," said Ruth sadly; "but I am sorry I
have no better gown, for this is very shabby. I am ashamed of it
myself, and I can see Mrs. Mason is twice as much ashamed. I wish
I need not go. I did not know we should have to think about our
own dress at all, or I should not have wished to go."
"Never mind, Ruth," said Jenny, "you've been looked at now, and
Mrs. Mason will soon be too busy to think about you and your
gown."
"Did you hear Ruth Hilton say she knew she was pretty?" whispered
one girl to another, so loudly that Ruth caught the words.
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