l. No girl can steal his heart from you--of that you may be
sure."

"But I say you don't know," sobbed Rita. "I will tell you." And she did
tell her, stumbling, sobbing, and blushing through the narrative of
Dic's unforgivable perfidy.

Miss Tousy whistled in surprise. After a moment of revery she said: "She
is trying to steal him, Rita, and she is as bad as she can be. If you
will give me your promise that you will never tell, I'll tell you
something Sue Davidson told me." Rita promised. "Not long since your
brother Tom called on Sue and left his great-coat in the hall. Sue's
young sister got to rummaging in Tom's great-coat pockets, for candy, I
suppose, and found a letter from this same Sukey Yates to Tom. Sue told
me about the letter. It breathed the most passionate love, and implored
Tom to save her from the ruin he had wrought. So you see, Dic is not to
blame." She paused, expecting her listener to agree with her; but Rita
sighed and murmured:--

"He is not excusable because others have been wicked."

"But I tell you I wouldn't let that little wretch steal him from me,"
insisted Miss Tousy. "That's what she's trying to do, and you're
helping her. When she was here I saw plainly that she was infatuated
with him, and was bound to win him at any price--at any cost. She had no
eyes nor dimples for any one else when he was by; yet he did not notice
her--did not see her smiles and dimples. Don't tell me he cares for her.
He had eyes for no one but you. Haven't you seen how other girls act
toward him? Didn't you notice how Sue Davidson went at him every chance
she got?"

"No," answered Rita, still studying her folded hands, and regardless of
her tear-stained face.

"I think Sue is the prettiest girl in town, excepting you," continued
Miss Tousy, "and if she could not attract him, it would be hopeless for
any one else to try."

"Nonsense," murmured Rita, referring to that part of Miss Tousy's remark
which applied to herself.

"No, it isn't nonsense, Rita. You are the prettiest girl I ever saw--but
no matter. She is pretty enough for me to hate her. She is the sort of
pretty girl that all women hate and fear. She obtrudes her
prettiness--keeps her attractions always _en evidence_, as the French
say. She moistens her lips to make them tempting, and twitches the right
side of her face to work that dimple of hers. She is so attractive that
she is not usually driven to seek a man openly; but Dic--I mean Mr.
Bright--