turned away a little hurt. "Why need Olive speak so shortly?" she
wondered, with the usual after-thought "Bea, never does, or the others."

Olive listened to the little crutch going slowly down stairs, and waited
until everything was quiet, then she went over to a small trunk and sat
down before it, lifted the lid, and supporting her chin in her hand,
looked steadily into it, all the moody bitterness in her eyes changing
slowly to a sadness that was almost despair.

"Oh, I don't see why it is!" she cried suddenly, laying her head down on
the trunk's sharp edge, and breaking into a passionate sobbing, all the
stronger for having been long denied. "I surely try, but, they are
unkind; they are, I know." And then the thick sobs broke vehemently
forth, and echoed out into the quiet hall; but Olive was alone upstairs,
and she knew it; besides, I doubt if she could have controlled herself
now, even had the whole of the amazed family confronted her. Poor,
sensitive, unfortunate Olive; was it her fault wholly, that her sisters
seemed able to be happy, quite regardless of her, and that she seemed to
fill no place in home except as "that queer, homely Olive," as she had
once heard herself called? This afternoon, the girls had all dressed
gayly, and gone for a ride behind "Prince" with Mr. Phillips. He had
said, "all the girls," when asking for them, but Olive so seldom joined
in any of their little gayeties outside of home, that it really seemed
strange and out of place for her to go with them; so she waited, when
the time came to dress, wondering, and half hoping that one of them
would express a little desire that she should go. Such a thought,
however, occurred to no one; for so many times had she flatly refused to
go, that they had all gradually ceased asking, supposing that she would
do as she pleased. Once, to be sure, Bea did run up to the arbor, seeing
her there, with the question on her lips, but Olive saw her coming, and
fearing that the new desire and expectation would show in her face, bent
her eyes to her book, quite unconscious of the heavy scowl on her brow;
so, after one glance, Bea withdrew in a hurry, remembering frequent
complaints for disturbance. At the hasty disappearance, Olive looked up
with a bitter little smile, that would have instantly disclosed to an
observer, how she was construing the act, and how she was hurt in spite
of herself.

"There! she was afraid she'd have to ask me something about it, if s