t to say to you."

"Oh, all right then," said Betty, shrugging her shoulders. "Your room
will do as well as any other place. Let's get it over."

The girls ran upstairs. They presently entered Fanny's bedroom, which
was a small apartment, but very neat and cheerful. It was next door to
the Vivians' own spacious one.

The moment they were inside Betty turned and faced Fanny. "Do you always
intend to remain my enemy, Fanny?" she asked.

"Far from that, Betty; I want to be your truest friend."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, don't talk humbug! If you are my truest friend
you will act as such. Now, what is the matter--what is up?"

"I will tell you."

"I am all attention," said Betty. "Pray begin."

"I hurt your feelings downstairs just now by saying that I did not care
for your story-telling."

"You didn't hurt them in the least, for I never expected you to care.
The story-telling wasn't meant for you."

"But I must mention now why I didn't care," continued Fanny, speaking as
quickly as she could. "Had you been the Betty the rest of the school
think you I could have lost myself, too, in your narrative, and I could
have seen the picture you endeavored to portray. But knowing you as you
are, Betty Vivian, I could only look down into your wicked heart----"

"What an agreeable occupation!" said Betty with a laugh which she tried
to make light, but did not quite succeed.

Fanny was silent.

After a minute Betty spoke again. "Do you spend all your time, Fanny,
gazing into my depraved heart?"

"Whenever I think of you, Betty--and I confess I do think of you very
often--I remember the sin you have sinned, the lack of repentance you
have shown, and, above all things, your daring spirit in joining our
club. It is true that when you joined--after all my advice to you to the
contrary, my beseeching of you to withstand this temptation--I gave you
to understand that I would be silent. But my conscience torments me
because of that tacit promise I gave you. Nevertheless I will keep it.
But remember, you are in danger. You know perfectly well where the
missing packet is. It is--or was, at least--in the hollow stump of the
old oak-tree at the top of the hill, and you positively told Sibyl Ray a
lie about it when she saw you looking at it yesterday. Afterwards, in
order to divert her attention from yourself, you sent her to gather
marguerites to make a wreath for her hair--a most ridiculous thing for
the child to wear. What you did