Let us have a
comfortable talk instead. You have not been like yourself the last week,
not a bit like my Hatty; so tell me all about it, dear, and see if I
cannot make you feel better."

"No, Bessie, don't try; it is not any use, unless I jump into somebody
else's body and mind. I can't make myself different. I am just Hatty, a
tiresome, disagreeable, selfish little thing."

"What a lot of adjectives! I wonder they don't smother you. You are not
big enough to carry so many. I think I could word that sentence better.
I should just say, 'Hatty is a poor, weak little body to whom mole-hills
are mountains, and the grasshopper a burden.' Does not that sound
nicer?"

"Yes, if it were true," returned Hatty sorrowfully, and then her
ill-humor vanished. "No, don't pet me, Bessie; I don't deserve it," as
Bessie stroked her hand in a petting sort of a way. "I have been cross
and ill-tempered all the week, just unbearable, as Christine said; but
oh, Bessie, it seemed as though I could not help it. I was so miserable
every night to think you were going away, that I could not sleep for
ever so long, and then my head ached, and I felt as though I were strung
on wires when I came down the next morning, and every time people
laughed and said pleasant things I felt just mad, and the only relief
was to show every one how disagreeable I could be."

Hatty's description of her overwrought feelings was so droll that Bessie
with some difficulty refrained from laughing outright, but she knew how
very real all this was to Hatty, so she exercised self-control, and
said, quite gravely:

"And so you wanted to make us all miserable, too. That was hardly kind,
was it, when we were all so sorry for you? I do think you have a great
deal to bear, Hatty. I don't mean because you are so weak in health;
that could be easily borne; but it must be so sad always to look on the
dark side of things. Of course, in some sense, we all project our own
shadows; but you are not content with your own proper shadow, you go
poking and peering about for imaginary ones, and so you are dark all
round."

"But your going away to Oatlands is not imaginary," returned Hatty
piteously.

"No, you foolish child. But I hope you do not grudge me a pleasant
visit. That would be a great piece of substantial selfishness on your
part, of which, I trust, my Hatty would not be capable. Supposing I gave
in to this ridiculous fancy and said, 'Hattie hates me to go away, so I
will