This morning at breakfast Uncle passed me over the portion of the paper
which contains the social news. As he did so, his face wore a teasing
smile and his eyes twinkled. I was unable to with-hold the little cry
that sprang to my lips as I read,—“An addition to the coterie of pretty
maids (for whom this city is justly famous) who will adorn our society
this winter is Miss Elsie Travers, the guest of Mr. and Mrs. George
Somers, Iroquois Avenue.”
“Oh! Mumsie, listen to this,” I cried, and read it out. We all laughed;
but how proud I felt. I felt myself colouring to the roots of my hair.
After such a pretty notice, I hope I shall find social progress easy.
“Elsie,” said Mumsie, beaming, “I congratulate you. My Micawber here and
I will be completely outdistanced.”
“Elsie, I’m proud of you,” Uncle endorsed.