the quick
footsteps that were rapidly gaining on her.

"Hello, Phyllis's twin!" The soft, half-laughing drawl was
unmistakable, and Janet turned quickly, to see Daphne beside her.

"Hello," she answered slowly. No need to force a smile for her; she
wouldn't be deceived by it.

Daphne did not appear to notice anything amiss. She looked lazily down
at the wet and muddy sidewalks and shrugged her shoulders.

"Park's better than this," she suggested. "Let's cut over to it."

They walked in silence until they gained the path that ran around the
reservoir.

"Looks wintry, doesn't it?" she asked idly. They stopped and looked
over the iron railing into the dull green water.

It was a somber autumn day. The sky was banked with dark gray clouds,
and a high wind swept through the trees, tearing away the last leaves
and whirling them to the ground.

"I suppose so," Janet replied indifferently. "I like it," she added
listlessly.

"Of course, but it's silly of you," Daphne agreed with her odd little
laugh. "Awfully silly."

"What do you mean?" Janet looked up at her suddenly.

"It's silly to like dreary things, even days, and it's most awfully
silly to be dreary yourself. Not fair, you know, when every body's
doing their best to be nice."

"But they're not," Janet said quickly. "They were the first day and
then--"

Daphne turned slowly and looked at her. For once her drooping lids
fully uncovered the sea green eyes that they were usually at such pains
to hide. A strand of her taffy-colored hair blew across her face, and
she tucked it carefully under her hat before she answered.

"So that's it, is it?" There was a hint of something besides laughter
in her velvety voice. "I didn't understand; what happened?"

"I don't know," Janet answered dully; "perhaps I did something they
didn't like or perhaps they just stopped bothering with me; I don't
know."

"But I know,"--Daphne laughed. "You expected too much. When the girls
stopped making a fuss about you, you thought they stopped liking you,
so here you are going off in corners and looking sadder than a wet
chicken, and you think you are doing the best you can, eh?"

"Go on," Janet said quietly.

"Ever have a pet rabbit?" Daphne inquired with mild interest.

"Yes, but what--" Janet stammered.

"Remember the first day you had him, the fuss you made about him and
then how you got sort of tired of him?"

"Why, yes, I suppose--"

Daphne laughed an