a nuisance things are!" said Lucy. "But now I am absolutely
determined to punish Irene and Rosamund in the only way in which I can
punish them. Rosamund is conceited enough to believe that she has made a
reformation in Irene's character. I know better. I know that Irene is a
perfectly horrid girl. If you could only have heard Miss Carter talk
about her when she first went to the Singletons'! And we had a servant
once from their house, and she told us some most ghastly tales. It is
impossible to suppose for a second that Irene is a nice girl; but
between Rosamund--who, I must own, is very plucky--and this mite Agnes,
who is devoted to her, she is quite quiet and amenable, and she is no
doubt passionately fond of that stupid, inane little Agnes. Now, I mean
to get Agnes from her. You must help me, Phyllis. How are we to manage
it?"

"It seems hardly worth while," said Phyllis.

"All right, Phyllis, you can please yourself. There are others who would
help me--Agnes Sparkes, for instance."

"Oh! if you must have some one, I am quite as good as another," said
Phyllis Flower.

"Well, you know that promise of mine that we should go to London
together. My dear aunt, Mrs. Brett, is going to town, and she says that
she will take me and any special friend I like as my companion, and she
will show me all over the place: the Tower, the Houses of Parliament,
and Westminster Abbey, and St. Paul's, and all the rest. And I mean to
go to a theatre. Were you ever at a really big theatre in the whole
course of your life, Phyllis?"

"Never," said Phyllis, "for you know I have lived all my life in the
country."

"Well, you can't possibly imagine what it is like: the dresses and the
lights, and the actors and the stage effects, as they call them, and the
way the people talk--it moves you so. I went once, and I cried two
handkerchiefs into wet mops, and I could have cried into a third, only I
didn't happen to have it. Oh, it was lovely!"

"It seems to be rather melancholy from your description," said Phyllis.

"Oh! it is the sort of melancholy that you can enjoy," said Lucy. "At
least I enjoyed it, and I am a very matter-of-fact girl. But there, we
can go to a laughing theatre. Some theatres make you laugh so much that
you can scarcely stop. You get almost into hysterics. Anyhow, I mean to
go, because Aunt Susan has promised to take me, either to a merry or a
sad play. And then you are fond of music. I dare say I could squeeze in
a