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She stopped, then looked directly at the woman.

“I suppose people will always laugh at me?” she queried. “I suppose those girls were right to laugh. I am queer.”

There was a moment’s pause. Then the woman in the blue dress spoke deliberately.

“I am going to ask you a question which may sound rather conceited,” she said. “Which would you value most—my opinion or the opinion of those two girls?”

“Yours,” said Miss Mason promptly.

“Then I am going to tell you exactly what I think, and you must forgive me if what I say sounds impertinent. I don’t think you are the least queer. I think you are quaint and original. Any artist would infinitely prefer your method of dressing than the method chosen by the older women of the present day. I think it quite possible that you will find a few people will laugh at you, for, as I’ve already said, in this fairy tale world there are bad fairies, and, worse still, stupid ones. But they don’t count, because they aren’t worth consideration, at least not as regards their opinion of our actions.” She spoke the words slowly and simply, almost as she would have spoken them to a child.