ge filled with young folks, doors are so likely to slam that this
miniature thunder-clap did not cause either head to turn. It was rather
the singular silence following which led Peggy to lift her eyes, and it
was the expression on Peggy's face which brought Priscilla to the
realization that something out of the ordinary was taking place.

Claire stood by the screen door, her hands clenched, her face scarlet,
her whole demeanor indicating the intensity of her struggle for
self-control. Priscilla looked at her aghast, all sorts of alarming
speculations racing through her mind. "Oh, what is the matter?" she
cried.

"I heard every word."

"You heard--" Priscilla broke off, and turned on Peggy a blank face. "Do
you know what she means? What has she heard?"

"Oh, you needn't try to get out of it," Claire's voice was suddenly
shrill and rasping. "So Miss Peggy Raymond is the dearest girl on earth,
is she, and you love her better than anybody in the world! It won't do
any good for you to deny it."

"I haven't any intention of denying it," Priscilla replied, choosing her
words with care. Instantly she knew that this meant the end of the
friendship, which had by degrees become a burden rather than a joy.
Claire's exactions, her extravagant protests of an affection which in
its expression proved itself to be nothing but self-love, had been the
one discordant note in the summer's harmony. To have the unreal bond
dissolved, even in so drastic a fashion, came as a relief. "I haven't
any wish to deny it," Priscilla repeated, as Claire gasped hysterically.
"Everybody who knows me knows that Peggy's my best friend."

"And what about me?" The tragic tone of Claire's inquiry threw its
absurdity into temporary eclipse. "I'm nobody, I suppose. I can just be
set aside when it suits your pleasure. And you called yourself my
friend."

"Why, Claire," Peggy began, throwing herself into the breach with her
usual irresistible impulse toward peacemaking, but, to the angry girl,
this well-meant interference was additional provocation. "Oh, don't you
say anything," she cried, turning savagely on the would-be pacificator.
"You ought to be satisfied. It's all your fault."

"My fault!" The accusation was too preposterous to be taken seriously.
Peggy could not keep from smiling.

"Oh, yes, I don't wonder that you laugh," exclaimed Claire, finding in
that involuntary twitching of the lips new fuel for her wrath. "It's
what you've been plotting