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"Excuse me," said a man's voice above her, "but are either of you ladies Mrs. Lura Doring?" The effect was electrical. Miss Lucinda sat bolt upright and stared madly about. Tom Speckert had told her to be sure to answer to that name. It would get him into trouble if she failed to do so. "Yes, yes," she gasped; "I am Mrs. Lura Doring."
It was not until Floss Speckert entered the senior class at Locustwood Seminary that this sublimated friendship suffered a jar. Floss's father lived in Chicago, and it was due to his unerring discernment in the buying and selling of live stock that Floss was being "finished" in all branches without regard to the cost.
Was it any wonder that when a brilliant alternative presented itself she was eager to accept it? Floss Speckert had gained her father's consent to spend her first week out of school in New York provided she could find a suitable chaperon. She had fallen upon the first and most harmless person in sight and besieged her with entreaties.
Miss Lucinda had consequently undertaken the management of Floss Speckert, and the result had been far-reaching in its consequences. Floss was a person whose thoughts did not dwell upon the highest development of the spiritual life. Her mind was given over to the pursuit of worldly amusements, her only serious thought being a burning ambition to win histrionic honors.
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