er to spend her Sundays with the girls she always sat
with, and who often asked her, and who teased her and made a
gentle stir within her, but it never came to Lena's unexpectant and
unsuffering german nature to do something different from what was
expected of her, just because she would like it that way better. Mrs.
Haydon had said that Lena was to come to her house every other Sunday,
and so Lena always went there.

Mrs. Haydon was the only one of her family who took any interest in
Lena. Mr. Haydon did not think much of her. She was his wife's cousin
and he was good to her, but she was for him stupid, and a little
simple, and very dull, and sure some day to need help and to be in
trouble. All young poor relations, who were brought from Germany to
Bridgepoint were sure, before long, to need help and to be in trouble.

The little Haydon boy was always very nasty to her. He was a hard
child for any one to manage, and his mother spoiled him very badly.
Mrs. Haydon's daughters as they grew older did not learn to like Lena
any better. Lena never knew that she did not like them either. She
did not know that she was only happy with the other quicker girls, she
always sat with in the park, and who laughed at her and always teased
her.

Mathilda Haydon, the simple, fat, blonde, older daughter felt very
badly that she had to say that this was her cousin Lena, this Lena who
was little better for her than a nigger. Mathilda was an overgrown,
slow, flabby, blonde, stupid, fat girl, just beginning as a woman;
thick in her speech and dull and simple in her mind, and very jealous
of all her family and of other girls, and proud that she could have
good dresses and new hats and learn music, and hating very badly to
have a cousin who was a common servant. And then Mathilda remembered
very strongly that dirty nasty place that Lena came from and that
Mathilda had so turned up her nose at, and where she had been made
so angry because her mother scolded her and liked all those rough
cow-smelly people.

Then, too, Mathilda would get very mad when her mother had Lena at
their parties, and when she talked about how good Lena was, to certain
german mothers in whose sons, perhaps, Mrs. Haydon might find Lena a
good husband. All this would make the dull, blonde, fat Mathilda very
angry: Sometimes she would get so angry that she would, in her thick,
slow way, and with jealous anger blazing in her light blue eyes, tell
her mother that she did