oon as ever their visitors'
backs were turned. "Has she _really_ got a prize? I didn't think it
could be true when Aunt Pike said she would get one. Anyhow, I wonder
she isn't ashamed to show it, for she knows it would have been yours if
she hadn't behaved so disgustingly. But Anna is never ashamed of what
she does, no matter how bad it is."

"Oh yes, she is," said Kitty thoughtfully. "I think she is dreadfully
ashamed sometimes of some things, and very sorry."

"Then why doesn't she say so?" snapped Betty crossly.

"I believe she doesn't know how to. She is shy, or--or something; but I
do believe she would like to be able to." And she thought of the abject
way in which Anna had followed her about for days after that affair at
Hillside, and had tried to do things for her; and in her heart she knew
that it was Anna's curious way of expressing her gratitude to her for
not exposing her meanness. "I believe," she went on musingly, "that if
she could undo all that--that fuss in any other way than by owning up,
that she would; but there isn't any other way, and she hasn't got pluck
enough to do it in the right one. I believe she would rather die than
have Aunt Pike know how she behaved. Oh dear, I do wish I hadn't to get
up again and undress."

"So do I," agreed Betty. "I really can't brush my hair to-night, I am
_so_ sleepy."

"I wouldn't," said Kitty, who had a little habit of saying the most
comfortable thing. "Give it an extra brushing to-morrow; that will do."

"Very well," agreed Betty, "I will remember," and in another moment was
fast asleep.

Kitty lay down and drew the bedclothes cosily about her until a few dark
curls and a scarlet bow were all that were visible, but go to sleep she
could not. Thoughts went racing through her brain in the most
distracting manner--thoughts of the school and all the unpleasant ending
of her short connection with it; thoughts of Anna and her mother, and
Anna's want of courage.

"I believe she isn't really a bad sort," mused Kitty, "and yet--and yet
she does do such mean things, and doesn't seem to see that they are
mean; and she thinks that the only way to please people is to say nasty
things of some one else to them; and then, of course, one feels that to
other people she says the same of oneself. One can't help it. I do
wish she was different. I believe I could like her if she was."

Presently her thoughts merged into dreams, but such unpleasant ones that
s