for hitherto Kitty had been Betty's
whenever Betty needed her. Now she was rarely to be found without Anna.
But Kitty, along with the others, never felt that she could trust Anna;
and they could not throw off the feeling that they had a spy in their
midst.

And, worst of all, the beautiful summer days glided away unappreciated,
and there were many bitter groans over what might have been had they
been alone. They thought longingly of the excursions and picnics, the
drives, and the free happy days in the open that they might have had.

"I do think it is so silly," cried Betty, "to have one's meals always at
the same time, sitting around a table in a room in a house, when one can
enjoy them _ever_ so much more if they come at all sorts of times, and
in all sorts of places."

"Oh, but it wouldn't be right to have them like that often," said Anna
primly. "You would have indigestion if you didn't have your meals at
regular hours." Anna was always full of ideas as to what was right and
good for her health.

"I didn't know I had an indigestion," said Betty shortly, with a toss of
her head, "and you wouldn't either, Anna, if you didn't think so much
about it." Which was truer than Betty imagined. "I think it is a pity
you talk so much about such things."

In September Dan went off to school. He was very homesick and not at
all happy when the last day came--a fact which consoled Kitty somewhat
for all the pleasure and excitement he had shown up to that point.
"If it hadn't been for Aunt Pike and Anna I believe he would have been
frightfully sorry all the time," she told herself, "instead of seeming
as though he was quite glad to go."

"You'll--you'll write to a fellow pretty often, won't you, Kit?" he
asked, coming into her room for about the fiftieth time, and wandering
about it irresolutely. He spoke in an off-hand manner, and made a show
of looking over her bookshelves whilst he was speaking. But Kitty
understood, and in her heart she vowed that nothing should prevent her
writing, neither health, nor work, nor other interests. Dan wanted her
letters, and Dan should have them.

But it was after he was gone that the blow of his departure was felt
most, and then the blank seemed almost too great to be borne. It was so
great that the girls were really almost glad when their own school
opened, that they might have an entirely new life in place of the old
one so changed.

"Though I would rather go right away, e