She was not going to begin by being _stuck up_, she said, and when at last she left Langley four weeks later, every man, woman, and child of her familiar acquaintance in town had been heartily invited to call upon her at Tracy Park if ever they came that way.
Frank had disposed of his business at a reasonable price, and had rented his house with all the furniture, except such articles as his wife insisted upon taking with her.

The bureau, and bedstead, and chairs which she and Frank had bought together in Springfield just before their marriage, the Boston rocker her mother had given her, and in which the old mother had sat until the day she died, the cradle in which she had rocked her first baby boy who was lying in the Langley grave-yard, were dear to the wife and mother, and though her husband told her she could have no use for them at Tracy Park, where the furniture was of the costliest kind, and that she would probably put them in the servants' rooms or attic, there was enough of sentiment in her nature to make her cling to them as something of the past, and so they were boxed up and forwarded by freight to Tracy Park, whither Mr.and Mrs.Tracy followed them a week later.
The best dressmaker in Langley had been employed upon the wardrobe of Mrs.Frank, who, in her travelling dress of some stuff goods of a plaided pattern, too large and too bright to be quite in good taste, felt herself perfectly _au fait_ as the mistress of Tracy Park, until she reached Springfield, where Mrs.Grace Atherton, accompanied by a tall, elegant looking young lady, entered the car and took a seat in front of her.

Neither of the ladies noticed her, but she recognized Mrs.
Atherton at once and guessed that her companion was the young lady from Collingwood, who, rumor said, was soon to marry her guardian, Mr.
Richard Harrington, although he was old enough to be her father.
Dolly scanned both the ladies very closely, noting every article of their costumes from their plain linen collars and cuffs to their quiet dresses of gray, which seemed so much more in keeping with the dusty cars than her buff and purple plaid.
'I ain't like them, and never shall be,' she said to herself, with a bitter sense of her inferiority pressing upon her.

'I ain't like them, and never shall be, if I live to be a hundred.

I wish we were not going to be grand.