For the Little Girl in Green, whose Christian name was Norah, was only what is called a poor relation of Mrs.Newberry, and her father was a person of no account whatever, who didn't belong to the Mausoleum Club or to any other club, and who lived, with Norah, on a street that nobody who was anybody lived upon.

Norah had been asked up a few days before out of the City to give her air--which is the only thing that can be safely and freely given to poor relations.

Thus she had arrived at Castel Casteggio with one diminutive trunk, so small and shabby that even the servants who carried it upstairs were ashamed of it.

In it were a pair of brand new tennis shoes (at ninety cents reduced to seventy-five) and a white dress of the kind that is called "almost evening," and such few other things as poor relations might bring with fear and trembling to join in the simple rusticity of the rich.
Thus stood Norah looking at Mr.Spillikins.
As for him, such is the contrariety of human things, he had no eyes for her at all.
"What a perfectly charming house this is," Mr.Spillikins was saying.
He always said this on such occasions, but it seemed to the Little Girl in Green that he spoke with wonderful social ease.
"I am so glad you think so," said Mrs.Newberry (this was what she always answered); "you've no idea what work it has been.

This year we put in all this new glass in the east conservatory, over a thousand panes.