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How little you know about my work? How away I've kept you? How I won't even play out-of-town engagements so we can always be together in our little home? You must explain all those things to your friends at Miss Harperly's. It helps with steady people."
Suddenly Marcia's eyes, almost with the perpendicular slits of her kitten's in them, seemed to swish together like portières, shutting Hattie behind them with her. "Oh my Marcy!" said Hattie, dimly, after a while, as if from their depths. "Marcy, dearest!" "At at Harperly's, momie, almost all the popular upper-class girls wear a a boy's fraternity pin." "Fraternity pin?"
Out of the profits of Hattie's justly famous Brown Cold Cream Guaranteed Color-fast Mulatto, Medium, Chocolate, had come Marcia's ermine muff and tippet; the enamel toilet set; the Steinway grand piano; the yearly and by no means light tuition toll at Miss Harperly's Select Day School for Girls. You get the whimsy of it? For everything fair that was Marcia, Hattie had brownly paid for.
Mighty nice selection you made, Hattie, Miss Harperly's." "You can't frighten me," she said, trying to moisten her lips with her tongue. But it was dry as a parrot's. It was hard to close her lips. They were oval and suddenly immobile as a picture frame. What if she could not swallow. There was nothing to swallow! Dry tongue. O God! Marcia!
But that's what there were, little ice glints of congealed satisfaction in Marcia's eyes. "Glad," said Hattie, the word full of tears. "Why, honey, you don't realize it, but this is the beginning! This is the meaning of my struggle to get you into Miss Harperly's school. It wasn't easy. I've never told you the strings I had to pull. Conservative people, you see. That's what the Grosbecks are, too.
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