to the mean little house and, without
even a backward glance, closed the door behind her.

Sheila stepped toward Ted. "I'll go home now," she said wearily. Then
she added, as if she were stretching out a wistful hand to his
sympathy: "Oh, Ted, she thought--until the last--that I was her little
girl!"

"Yes," he said, all his resentment returning, "and you let her! You
_let_ her, Sheila! How could you do such a thing?"

"But it comforted her. It comforted her to think so, Ted."

"She wasn't comforted when she thought you weren't real!"

"Yes, she was--even then. She was when I promised to come back."

"You can't keep your promise."

"Why can't I?"

"Your grandmother won't let you. You know that as well as I do.
'Tisn't your place to comfort Crazy Lisbeth, and Mrs. Caldwell will
tell you so. Her troubles aren't any of your business."

"They are!" cried Sheila, with an anger now that matched his own, "they
are--because I understand how she feels! I haven't any mother--and
Lisbeth hasn't any child. Don't you see that it's just the same for
both of us? And _her_ little girl may be comforting _my_ mother up in
heaven right now!"

"And she may _not_!" he retorted,

"I believe it!" she proclaimed, carried away by the imaginary scene she
had evoked.

"Well," said Ted, with his most exasperating tone of superior
intelligence, "_I_ don't!"

She glanced up at him as he trudged beside her, his face firm with his
substantial beliefs, his feet sturdily treading a very solid earth.
And though she was only a little girl, unlearned in the finger-posts of
character, Sheila felt what she could not name nor analyze. She
remembered that she had almost told him her dream, and she shivered at
the thought.

"No," she remarked ruefully, "you don't believe anything that you can't
_see_, do you, Ted?"

"I don't believe lies!" he replied crisply, "not even when I tell 'em
myself."

"_Lies_?" she repeated in astonishment.

He stopped and faced her. "Look here! You said you couldn't let your
grandmother think you came home with the rest of 'em when you didn't
because that would be lying."

"Yes," agreed Sheila with conviction.

"But you let Lisbeth think what wasn't so!"

The words flashed their accusation at her with unmistakable clarity.
"Yes," she assented once more, slowly, "I did." And then, with pained
surprise, "Why, that _was_ a lie, wasn't it?"

"And now," finished Ted ruthlessly, "you're making up