house! We don't want to
receive your bills, thank you! You must give your own address to the
shops. Haven't you settled that affair with Parker's yet?"

"No, and I don't want it to be found out at home. Beatrice always
takes in the letters and deals them round. It was by the merest good
luck she didn't get hold of mine on Saturday. Netta, do let me use
your address! You might do that much for me!"

"Why should I? I've done quite enough for you, and too much already.
I'm tired of the whole business. I was silly to be mixed up with it in
the beginning."

"But you started it! You took me into Miss Roscoe's room, and then you
suggested going to Parker's and replacing the china."

"Are you trying to throw the blame on me?" flared Netta.

"Not altogether; but I think you were partly responsible, and that you
got off cheaply."

"That's uncommonly fine," sneered Netta. "No, no, my good Gwen, that
little dodge won't work. This child isn't going to be burden-bearer
for your sins. If you get into scrapes you must get out of them
yourself. I've lost a sovereign over you already."

"And for what?" exploded Gwen angrily. "What about my beautiful essay,
that you took and used as your own?"

"Wasn't worth it! It was a freak of mine just then to win that prize,
but I've never looked at the book since. I'm sorry I troubled about
it. I'd rather have the sov. now."

"And I'm sorry too, because it wasn't fair and square, and I've felt
vile about it ever since. I hate all these underhand things."

Netta smiled sarcastically.

"Of course you hate them when they don't turn out to your advantage.
Pity you didn't pursue your course of virtue a little earlier! You
were ready enough to trade the essay for the sov. at the time, so what
are you grumbling about now?"

"Your meanness."

"Look here, Gwen Gascoyne, I've had enough of this! I won't hear
another word about your wretched affair. As I told you before, you
must get out of your own scrapes, and not expect other people to act
Providence for you. If you mention the subject again, I simply shan't
listen."

Gwen had scarcely expected either help or consolation from Netta,
though she felt indignant that her old chum should show her so little
sympathy in the matter. After all, it was only in accordance with
Netta's character. Grapes do not grow on thistles; and a girl so
destitute of all sense of conscience was not likely to prove a stanch
and faithful friend. Gwen was learning b