She is from Richmond, Virginia, and is visiting us for the winter.

Her father is a millionaire, and he has lots of great plantations of,--of magnolias." "Oh, no, Ethelyn," began Patty.
"Well, sweet potatoes, then, or something," went on Ethelyn, nudging her cousin to keep still.

"You must excuse her dress, she couldn't get anything very nice in Virginia so mamma has gone to New York to-day to buy her some decent clothes." Patty raged inwardly at this slighting and unjust remark about her native state, but she was a truly polite little girl and said nothing unkind in reply.
"Do you like to dance ?" said Mabel Miller to Patty later, as they took places in a quadrille just forming.
"Yes," said Patty, "and I know these quadrilles, but I never saw fancy dances like those you have here." "Oh, they're the latest thing," replied Mabel.

"Professor Dodson comes from New York, and he teaches us the newest and swellest steps." As that day was the last of the quarter the professor had arranged a little exhibition of his best pupils, and a good-sized audience was gathered in the galleries above the dancing floor to witness it.
But it was a surprise to all present when he announced that a friend whose name he was not privileged to mention, had offered a prize to the child who should dance most gracefully, either alone or with a partner.
"You can't get it, Ethelyn," said Reginald, "for you're as awkward as a lame elephant." "I am not," snapped Ethelyn, "and you'd better not try for it, 'cause you'd only make a spectacle of yourself." "So would you," retorted Reginald, "and then we'd be a pair of spectacles." Ethelyn said no more, for the dances were beginning.
Some of the pupils danced very prettily, others affectedly, and others cleverly, but the dances were of a kicking, romping nature that required much practice and skill to perform gracefully.
After all had taken part, Professor Dodson turned politely to Patty, and invited her, if she would, to dance also.
"Oh, I couldn't, thank you," she answered "I don't know any of these flings.

I only know an old-fashioned minuet." "Try that," urged Ethelyn, who delighted to have her cousin made conspicuous, as that attracted attention towards herself.
The professor insisted upon it, so Patty obligingly consented, and saying, "I couldn't dance with these things jingling," she gave Ethelyn the heavy necklace and bangles.
Then she stepped out on the floor, and as the orchestra played the slow, stately music of the minuet, Patty bowed and swayed like a veritable old-time maiden.