Cecilia of the Pink Roses
caught in her throat.  "Please, Gawd," she made mental appeal, "make them learn me to be a lady quick!" 

 Weren't they ever coming? 

 The shabby clock tick-tick-ticked. The sun lowered and made more slanting rays on the floor. A maid, very smart in uniform, came in. She gave Cecilia a guilty look, then said: "This way. Mrs. De Pui will see you upstairs." 

 "Yes, ma'am," answered Cecilia. She followed humbly. The maid decided that her forgetfulness hadn't made much difference. She didn't think that that would report her.... Cecilia went upstairs after the slender black figure. Her heart beat sickeningly. There were voices from the door at which the maid paused. Cecilia saw some girls sitting around a table at which a white-haired woman was pouring tea. 

 "Oh," said Cecilia impulsively, "I'm interrupting yuh at yer supper." 

 "No," answered Mrs. De Pui, faintly smiling; "come in. You are Cecilia?" 

 Cecilia nodded. Somehow the sobs that had been kept in all day, were, at the first kind voice, very near the surface. The girls smiled at each other. Cecilia wondered about her hat, or perhaps her petticoat hung out below her skirt? Mrs. De Pui motioned her to a chair. 

 "Annette," she said, "give our new friend some tea." 

 "How do you take your tea?" questioned Annette crisply. 

 "Milk," answered Cecilia, "an' sugar if yuh have it."  She reddened. Of course they would have it. She wished she hadn't said that! She stared in acute embarrassment at her feet. Some one gave her a cup of tea, some one else a sandwich. She dipped it in the tea, then she remembered that that was not proper and reddened again. At that move the young person called Annette had suddenly choked and held her handkerchief over her mouth. The other girls looked into their cups, with the corners of their lips twitching. 

 A fat and dumpy-looking girl seated a little out of the group looked at Cecilia with sympathy. Mrs. De Pui spoke of a recent exhibition of water colours, with her well-bred tones trickling over the inanities she uttered, and making them sound like a reflection of thought.... Even the sun looked cold to Cecilia. 

 "I wish I was back in the flat," she thought, and then: "I wonder if I can bear it!" 


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