, which attracted him to another spot on
the brink of the pond.

[Illustration: "HERE, LUCY!"]

"Here, Lucy!" he said in a loud whisper, "come here! take care! keep on
the grass!--don't step where the cows have been!" he added, pointing to
a peninsula of dry grass, with trodden mud on each side of it; for
Tom's contemptuous conception of a girl included the attribute of being
unfit to walk in dirty places.

Lucy came carefully as she was bidden, and bent down to look at what
seemed a golden arrowhead darting through the water. It was a water
snake, Tom told her; and Lucy at last could see the serpentine wave of
its body, very much wondering that a snake could swim. Maggie had drawn
nearer and nearer; she _must_ see it too, though it was bitter to her,
like everything else, since Tom did not care about her seeing it. At
last she was close by Lucy; and Tom, who had been aware of her approach,
but would not notice it till he was obliged, turned round and said,--

"Now, get away, Maggie; there's no room for you on the grass here.
Nobody asked _you_ to come."

There were passions at war in Maggie at that moment to have made a
tragedy, if tragedies were made by passion only; the utmost Maggie could
do, with a fierce thrust of her small brown arm, was to push poor little
pink-and-white Lucy into the cow-trodden mud.

Then Tom could not restrain himself, and gave Maggie two smart slaps on
the arm as he ran to pick up Lucy, who lay crying helplessly. Maggie
retreated to the roots of a tree a few yards off, and looked on
impenitently. Usually her repentance came quickly after one rash deed,
but now Tom and Lucy had made her so miserable, she was glad to spoil
their happiness,--glad to make everybody uncomfortable. Why should she
be sorry? Tom was very slow to forgive _her_, however sorry she might
have been.

"I shall tell mother, you know, Miss Mag," said Tom, loudly and
emphatically, as soon as Lucy was up and ready to walk away. Lucy was
too entirely absorbed by the evil that had befallen her,--the spoiling
of her pretty best clothes, and the discomfort of being wet and
dirty,--to think much of the cause, which was entirely mysterious to
her. She could never have guessed what she had done to make Maggie angry
with her; but she felt that Maggie was very unkind and disagreeable, and
made no magnanimous entreaties to Tom that he would not "tell," only
running along by his side and crying piteously, while Maggie sat on the