Ella rose and dropped a curtsy as her father introduced her, while the Baroness stared at her from head to toe through her lorgnette.
“So this is the girl,” she said at last in a harsh voice. “How do you do, miss? I’ve heard of your airs and graces, and the way you have been mollycoddled, and I want you to understand that that sort of thing has come to an end now. You’ve been to school, I believe.”
“Yes,” faltered Ella.
“Don’t they teach you to say madam when you speak to your elders? Who told you to put on that frock?”
“Nobody,” said Ella, whose face was red with shame. “It is my frock which my father gave to me, and I put it on because I like it best of all my frocks.”
“Oh, indeed! Then you may go and take it off as quickly as you like, and put on the plainest one you have. I don’t like little girls who give themselves airs. Why do you not greet your sisters?”
Now this was hardly fair, for poor little Ella had not had time to greet anybody, or to do anything except answer questions, since her new relations had arrived. Nevertheless, she tried to smile and to appear friendly. “How do you do?” she said. “My father told me about you as we were coming home in the carriage. I think you’ve got such pretty names! But I don’t know yet which is Charlotte and which is Euphronia, so I can’t call you by them!”
