y the time this vague suggestion had wavered into her consciousness, the
strain of waiting and listening began to re-act on her temper. Of course,
Berta had forgotten all about her watching there alone in the dark. Berta
was selfish and thoughtless and heedless. That very afternoon, while they
were bringing the puppy to college, she had almost tipped the buggy over
into a puddle. Berta had no right to impose upon her like this, and make
her do the worst part of the work every time. Why, even when they went
calling together, Bea always had to do the knocking and walk in first and
manage the conversation and everything. And now Berta was having fun at
the spread, and it must be near ten o'clock, for the watchman had already
shuffled softly past and turned the gas still lower. And she knew her
foot was going to sleep, and she could never feel the same toward Berta
Abbott again.

Bea was so sorry for herself that her lip began to quiver over a sobbing
breath, when steps came hurrying helter-skelter, the door banged open,
and Berta dived in.

"Oh, Bea, I'm dreadfully sorry! I couldn't get away before. They held
me--actually--and made me jig for them, and sing that last song I wrote.
The preserved ginger was so delicious that I saved some for you. Nobody
suspects a thing. How is the little dear?"

Bea rose with impressive dignity till the straightening of numb muscles
inspired an agonized, "Ouch!" and a stiff wriggle. It was every bit
Berta's fault, and she evidently didn't care a snap. She would show
people whether they could walk all over her and never say boo! She would
not lose her temper--oh, no! she would not utter a word--not a single one
of all the scorching things she could think of. She would just be
dignified and self-possessed and teach certain persons that she did not
intend to be imposed upon one instant longer. Therefore, Miss Beatrice
Leigh flung open the door and stalked away without a backward glance.

"Hulloa!" ejaculated Berta, staring blankly after her, "what's your
rush?"

No answer; merely a somewhat more defiant swing of the slender shoulders
vanishing in the dusk of the deserted corridor.

"What shall we do with the dog? You borrowed him--you're responsible--it's
your idea," following in a puzzled flurry as far as the threshold. "Shall
I lock him in alone? I said all along it was silly."

Those insolent shoulders sailed silently around the transverse and out of
sight.

After a petrified momen