h you again, never!"

"No, you will never have a chance," was the cool reply. "I won't play
with either of you; and I'd be ashamed of myself if I were you,
Frances."

"Oh, never mind!" urged Emma, aghast at the scene.

"I will mind. She knows it is a story--and--" Frances could get no
further, her tears choked her, and rushing from the room she shut the
door behind her.

Mrs. Morrison, coming in, found Gladys putting on her things with an air
of injured innocence quite impressive, while Emma stood helplessly
looking at her. The dominoes lay scattered on the floor.

"Where is Frances?" she asked.

"In the other room; she's mad," Gladys explained briefly.

Mrs. Morrison knew it would be useless to ask questions at this stage,
so she only said she was sorry, and waited till Gladys left, then went
to find her daughter.

Frances was lying on the bed crying convulsively.

"What is the matter?" her mother asked gently.

The child sat up, exclaiming between her sobs, "Gladys is so hateful.
She said Emma cheated--and it's a story--and I'll never play with her
again!"

"Oh, my little girl! I am so sorry," was all Mrs. Morrison said, as she
left the room.

Sorry about what? Frances wondered as her anger cooled. Because Gladys
had been so hateful? or was it because she had been in a passion?--but
then she had a right to be angry. As she lay quiet for a while, feeling
languid, now the storm had passed, a sense of shame stole over her.

Presently she went softly into the sitting room. It was growing dark,
and her mother sat alone among the cushions of the couch; Frances
nestled down beside her, and there in the firelight and the stillness
she couldn't help feeling sorry, even though she still felt sure she had
a right to be angry.

She wished her mother would speak, but as she did not, Frances asked,
"Don't you think Gladys was very unkind?"

"She ought to have been very certain of the truth of what she said,
before she accused any one of cheating."

"I think so too; and I had a right to be angry." She began to feel quite
certain of this.

"I have been talking it over with Emma," said Mrs. Morrison, "and I find
she did not understand the game. She really played as Gladys said, but
she did it by mistake."

"Did she? But Gladys ought to have known Emma wouldn't cheat."

"And of course there was nothing for you to do, but throw down the
dominoes and accuse Gladys of telling a story?"

"But, mother--" Frances h