y I would rather not know."

"But I think you ought to know about your Irene. Nobody loved her at
all--nobody could bear her--until----Why, what is the matter, child?"

"Don't--don't go on; I won't listen," said little Agnes.

Her face was as white as death; her eyes were dilated.

"But I will tell you," said Lucy. "She was the dreadful girl who nearly
drowned poor Miss Carter, one of her governess, who is now at the
Singletons'. She was the terrible, terrible girl who made your own dear
sister swallow live insects instead of pills; she was the awful girl who
used to put toads into the bread-pan; and--oh! I can't tell you all the
terrific things she did. She is only biding her time to do the same to
you. Some people say she isn't a girl at all, but a sort of fairy; and
fairies always fascinate people, and when they have made them love them
like anything they will turn them into wicked fairies, or something else
awful. What is the matter, child?"

For little Agnes was trembling all over. After a minute she got up and
made a great effort to steady herself.

"I don't think you should have told me that story," she said. "And I
don't believe you."

"You don't believe me, you little wretch!" said Lucy, reddening with
anger. "How dare you say such things? Do you think I, the daughter of
Professor Ralph Merriman, would tell lies?"

"Well, you've told one now," said Agnes stoutly; "for I don't believe my
darling Irene ever did such naughty--such very naughty--things."

"You ask Miss Frost--your dear Emily, as you call her. Here she comes
walking along the bank. You go up and ask her, and if she tells you that
I am wrong, then I will confess that some one told me lies. There, go at
once and do it."

Miss Frost approached the pair to take little Agnes off Lucy's hands,
for it did not occur to her as possible that a girl of Lucy Merriman's
type could be really interested in her little sister. When she saw the
white face and trembling lips, and the anxious eyes, she stopped
suddenly, her own heart beating violently.

"What is it, Aggie? What is wrong, darling?" she said; and she bent down
and touched the little one on the shoulder.

"Oh, Emmie, it isn't true--it can't be true!" said little Agnes.

"I have been telling her one or two things," said Lucy. "I have thought
it best to put her on her guard. You have done an exceedingly silly
thing to allow her to sleep in the room with that changeling sort of
girl, Irene Ash