But that was a long time ago, when she was
a little thing--only ten. Now she was nearly sixteen. Things were
different. One now was conscious of the reality of inward
inexperiences: these must influence life--one's own and, haply, the
lives of others. What Missy did not emphasize in her mind was the
mystery of how piety evolved from white fox furs and white fox furs
finally evolved from piety. But she did perceive that it would be
hopeless to try to explain her motives about Arthur as mixed up with
the acquisition of the white fox furs. . . No; not even Tess O'Neill
could have grasped the true inwardness of it all.
It all began, as nearly as one could fix on a concrete beginning,
with Genevieve Hicks's receiving a set of white fox furs for
Christmas. The furs were soft and silky and luxurious, and Genevieve
might well have been excused for wearing them rather triumphantly.
Missy wasn't at all envious by nature and she tried to be fair-
minded in this case, but she couldn't help begrudging Genevieve her
regal air.
Genevieve had paraded her becoming new finery past the Merriam
residence on several Sunday afternoons, but this wasn't the entire
crux of Missy's discontent.
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