u, and I shall certainly call a doctor."

Gwendolyn lay very still. As Thomas glanced down at her, smirking
exultantly, her smile went, and the pink of wrath once more surged into
her face.

"And the doctor'll give nasty medicine," declared Thomas, "or maybe
he'll cut out your appendix!"

"Potter won't let him."

"Potter! Huh!--He'll cut out your appendix, and charge your papa a
thousand dollars. Oh, you bet, them that's naughty always pays the
piper."

Gwendolyn got to her feet. "I _won't_ pay the piper," she retorted. "I'm
going to give all my money to the hand-organ man--_all_ of it. I like
_him_," tauntingly. "But I hate--you."

"_We_ hate a sneak," observed Miss Royle, blandly.

The little figure went rigid. "And I hate _you_," she cried shrilly.
Then buried her face in her hands.

"_Gwen-do-lyn'!_" It was a solemn and horrified warning.

Gwendolyn turned and walked slowly toward the window-seat. Her breast
was heaving.

"Come back and sit in this chair," bade the governess.

Gwendolyn paused, but did not turn.

"Shall I fetch you?"

"Can't I even look out of the window?" burst forth Gwendolyn. "Oh,
you--you--you--" (she yearned to say Snake-in-the--grass!--yet dared
not) "you mean! _mean!_" Her voice rose to a scream.

Miss Royle stood up. "I see that you want to go to bed," she declared.

The torrent of Gwendolyn's anger and resentment surged and broke bounds.
She pivoted, arms tossing, face aflame. There were those wicked words
across the river that each night burned themselves upon the dark. She
had never pronounced them aloud before; but--

"Starch!" she shrilled, stamping a foot, "Villa sites! Borax! _Shirts!_"

Miss Royle gave Thomas a worried stare. He, in turn, fixed her with a
look of alarm. So much Gwendolyn saw before she flung herself down
again, sobbing aloud, but tearlessly, her cheek upon the rug.

She heard Miss Royle rustle toward the school-room; heard Thomas close
the door leading into the hall. There were times--the nursery had seen a
few--when the trio found it well to let her severely alone.

Now only a hoarse lamenting broke the quiet.

It was an hour later when some one tapped on the school-room door--Miss
French, doubtless, since it was her allotted time. The lamentations
swelled then--and grew fainter only when the last foot-fall died away on
the stairs. Then Gwendolyn slept.

Awakening, she lay and watched out through the upper panes of the front
window. Across