It's a sort of cross between a coral and a rose--oh, so exquisite! And
see how it is made, with all these teeny tucks and the embroidery let in
between. And the sleeves--aren't they just illegant entirely? Don't you
think we might make her wear it?"
"I am sorry, Kathleen, but you are not getting on very well with Alice.
I wish it were different. Could you not do something to propitiate her?"
"Wisha, then, darling!" said Kathleen, pausing a moment to consider;
"that's just what I can't do. Alice's ways are not my ways, and if I
copied her it's kilt I'd be entirely. She never likes to see a smile on
my face, and she can't abide to watch me if I dance a step, and she
wouldn't take a joke out of me if it was to save her life. To please
Alice I'd have to be the primmest of the prim, and always stooping over
my horrid lessons, and the end of it there'd be no more of poor Kathleen
O'Hara--- it's dead and in her grave she'd be, the creature. Indeed, I'm
glad I'm not made on Alice's pattern, even if she is your daughter. I
can't aspire to anything so fine and high up even for your sake,
darling, and you are one of the sweetest women on God's earth. I
couldn't do it--not by no means."
Mrs. Tennant could not help laughing as Kathleen described the sort of
girl she would be if she adopted Alice's role.
"But the question is now," said the girl, "what are we to do to make her
have some of these pretty things? Mightn't I give the blouse to you
first, and you could give it to her? She'd look so sweet in this pink
blouse when she went to tea at her chosen friends.
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