BETSY, who was always most eager to greet Elizabeth on Monday mornings at school, did not feel very enthusiastic about it on this present occasion; Elizabeth was sure to hark back to the subject of Christmas gifts; it was like her to be interested in one thing to the exclusion of all others until the matter had been well threshed out, unless something much more exciting occurred to put it out of her mind, so Betsy, instead of hurrying off as usual to school, lagged behind, giving no answer to the call which Elizabeth and Bess gave as they passed by together, and arriving just at the very last stroke of the bell. Elizabeth looked up beamingly as she entered and gave Betsy’s hand an affectionate squeeze when her desk-mate took the seat by her side; but Betsy’s face wore such a solemn expression that Elizabeth looked at her inquiringly, receiving no response to her questioning glance.
When the hour for recess came Elizabeth’s first question was: “Aren’t you well, Betsy? Has anything happened?”
Betsy shook her head. “No, I feel cross; that is all.”
“Then here is something to sweeten your disposition,” returned Elizabeth laughingly. “I got up early and made some fudge with marshmallows in it. I brought this boxful to you; it is all for yourself, because you were so dear and generous about the silk pieces.”
Again! Betsy felt that she could not stand it much longer. “Bother the silk pieces,” she cried. “I wish you would stop talking about them.”
“Well, you are cross, sure enough,” said Elizabeth, really feeling hurt at this reception of her gift. “You’d better eat a piece of fudge and see if it won’t do you good.”
But Betsy left the fudge untouched and had very little to say during luncheon. When Bess rallied her upon her silence Elizabeth shook her head and whispered to Bess: “Don’t tease her; I don’t believe she feels well.”
That her first best friend did not resent her ill temper was the crowning stroke, and before school closed Betsy gave in. She slipped a little note into Elizabeth’s hand, addressing her in the style they adopted toward one another on such occasions, and asking that Elizabeth would meet her at their trysting place that afternoon. If she were not there Elizabeth was to look for a message left in the usual secret place.
Nothing pleased Elizabeth more than such messages. She was usually the one to take the initiative and to bid Betsy to the trysting place; it had been some time since either of them had made an excuse for such a meeting and it was therefore the keener prospect. Elizabeth did not delay in reaching the spot, but found no Betsy. She hastened to the big stone, looked under it and found a small package wrapped in heavy paper and securely sealed. Wondering what it could contain, Elizabeth broke the seals and found inside the heavy paper another wrapping of soft white paper which she unfastened—to find inside a length of beautiful ribbon and a note; the note read:
Dearest Frederica,—This ribbon is for you. I have a confession to make about it. I was meanly going to keep it for myself. It was in the bag I brought to your house and I found it and did not tell you nor show it to you because I was a pig and didn’t want you to have it. You thought I was generous when I was a mean, mean, selfish, disgusting creature. Now I shall not be happy till you take it for I cannot stand your thinking me generous when I was not. If you forgive me run up the flag and I will come and fall at your feet, crying, “Peccavi,” and throwing myself on your mercy. If you do not forgive me I shall be heart-broken.