headed two parties in the small school. Of course,
Phyllis Flower belonged altogether to Lucy's party.

"Well, what is it?" she said. "What do you want to say to me?"

"It is this," said Lucy. "I am quite determined to have my revenge on
that horrid Rosamund and that odious Irene."

"I wish you wouldn't think so much about them. They are quite happy now,
and don't do anybody any special harm."

"But that is just it. Rosamund ought never to have been readmitted to
the school, and Irene is not the sort of girl who should have come
here."

"Well, she seems a very nice sort--not that I know much about her."

"You had better not say that again in my presence, Phyllis--that is, if
you wish me to remain your friend."

"Then I won't, dear," said Phyllis, "for certainly I do wish you to be
my friend."

"I hate Irene," said Lucy, "and I hate Rosamund, and I hate that little
sneak Agnes Frost, who tries to worm herself into everybody's good
favor."

"Oh, no, she doesn't! She thinks of no one in all the world but Irene."

"I am surprised at that," said Lucy. "I imagined I had put a spoke in
that wheel. I was very much amazed when I saw them thicker than ever the
very next day. She is the sort of child who would tell tales out of
school. I know the sort--detestable! She is a little pitcher with long
ears. She is all that is vulgar and second-rate."

"Perhaps she is," said Phyllis, "although I never thought so. I thought
her a pretty, sweet little creature. I think she is really fond of
Irene, and Irene is sincerely devoted to her."

"Well, Phyllis, I will confide in you. A few weeks ago, when Rosamund
and Irene took themselves off to The Follies to spend the afternoon, I
took the opportunity of having a chat with little Miss Agnes Frost, and
there and then I enlightened her with regard to certain stories which I
knew for a fact to be true. I can tell you I frightened her a good bit.
She is rather timid--I never knew any one more so. Her face got as white
as death. Of course, I told her she was not to tell any one, but I
didn't greatly care. I know for a fact she was nervous for the rest of
the day, and that evening she asked poor old Frosty to let her sleep in
her bed."

"But she didn't sleep with her, all the same," said Phyllis, "for I
happened to see her running back to her own room quite late, after the
rest of us were supposed to be in bed. And the next day she was greater
friends than ever with Irene."

"What