Chrystobel
opposite, trying to absorb the teacher's helpful words, while in her
heart she was blaming her room-mate for the scene of the previous hour,
and wondering how she could get even with the enemy. Chrystobel returned
the sour looks with interest, even making a wry face occasionally behind
her hand when Miss Pomeroy chanced to be looking in the other direction,
for this spoiled maid was equally as sure that Tabitha was the sole
cause of the disturbance.

But when the girls were all in bed that night, the lights turned out and
the great building silent, Tabitha's anger abated, Miss Pomeroy's words
kept repeating themselves in her mind, Jessie's unconscious warning
filled her with uneasiness, gentle Mrs. Vane's motherly lectures came
back to haunt her, and Mr. Carson's advice of long ago suddenly sprang
into memory and would not let her rest. When she closed her eyes they
rose before her inner vision in such a provoking fashion that sleep
refused to come to soothe the tired, aching body.

"I have been hateful and horrid," sighed the weary girl at last, giving
up the struggle and facing the accusing conscience. "No one will like
me if I behave like that. I promised Mrs. Vane to be good and just see
what a beginning I have made! A scolding already and I haven't been here
a day. Oh, dear! Chrystobel _was_ selfish, but maybe if I had been good,
she would have given up that drawer and the hooks without any fuss. I
acted like a perfect--cat! Because she was selfish and--mean, yes, I
think she was mean--that was no reason for my being hateful. Oh, it is
such hard work to be good! I wonder if it will ever be any easier.
Carrie doesn't seem to have any trouble that way at all, and her
room-mate is a spoiled darling, too. If she can put up with Cassandra, I
ought to be able to deal with Chrystobel. I suppose--I--ought to--tell
her I am sorry. I hate to think of doing such a thing, for maybe she
will be a--cat. Perhaps I needn't tell her, but just explain to Miss
Pomeroy how bad I feel to think I made such a scene--no, I didn't fight
with Miss Pomeroy, and apologizing to her won't make Chrystobel feel any
better toward me. Oh, dear, I suppose I must do it! Well, here
goes--I've got the shivers clear to my toe-tips already, thinking of
what she may say. Chrystobel!"

She spoke the name softly, but the occupant of the other bed heard, and
slowly turned over facing the window, surprised, wondering whether or
not her ears cou