be such a baby," said Aunt Maria. At times Aunt Maria
could not quite forgive Evelyn for being Ida Slome's child,
especially when she showed any weakness. She looked severely now at
poor Evelyn, in her red house-wrapper, weeping in her damp little
handkerchief. "I should think you were about ten," she said.

Evelyn wiped her eyes and sniffed. Her throat was very sore, and her
cold was also in her head. Her pretty lips were disfigured with
fever-sores. Her eyes were inflamed.

"You wouldn't want to go looking the way you do, anyhow," said Aunt
Maria, pitilessly.

After Aunt Maria went out of the room, Maria, who was putting some
finishing-touches to the gown which she herself was to wear to the
Christmas-tree, went over to her sister and knelt down beside her.
"Poor darling," she said. "Don't you want me to stay at home with
you?"

Evelyn pushed her away gently, with a fresh outburst of tears. "No,"
she said. "Don't come so close, Maria, or you will catch it.
Everybody says it is contagious. No, I wouldn't have you stay at home
for anything. I am not a pig, if I am disappointed. But Aunt Maria
need not be so cross."

"Aunt Maria does not mean to be cross, sweetheart," said Maria,
stroking her sister's fluffy, dark head. "Are you sure that you do
not want me to stay home with you, dear?"

"Perfectly sure," replied Evelyn. "I want you to go so you can tell
me about it."

Evelyn had not the slightest idea of jealousy of Maria. While she
admired her, it really never occurred to her, so naive she was in her
admiration of herself, that anybody could think her more attractive
than she was and fall in love with her, to her neglect. She had not
the least conception of what this Christmas-tree meant to her older
sister: the opportunity of seeing Wollaston Lee, of talking with him,
of perhaps some attention on his part. Maria was to return to Amity
on the last trolley from Westbridge. It was quite a walk from the
academy. She dreamed of Wollaston's escorting her to the
trolley-line. She dressed herself with unusual care when the day
came. She had a long, trailing gown of a pale-blue cloth and a blue
knot for her yellow hair. She also had quite a pretentious blue
evening cloak. Christmas afternoon a long box full of pale-yellow
roses arrived. There was a card enclosed which Maria caught up
quickly and concealed without any one seeing her. Wollaston had sent
her the roses. Her heart beat so hard and fast that it seemed the