And then Martha took it all so quietly. It was almost impossible to rouse her to be angry, and that was annoying too in its way. “I suppose,” thought Betty, very sleepily now, “that I ought to try to be patient too, but sometimes I really can’t.” She fell asleep here, and dreamed that Kitty was an immense “daddy-long-legs” flapping and buzzing about in her hair.
The next afternoon Kitty arrived, full of excitement, and ready to be more than delighted with everything.
She was eleven years old, just Martha’s age, and Betty was two years younger. Fresh from her life in London, where there always were so many lessons to be learned and so little “fun” of any kind, this beautiful country home was a sort of paradise to her. To have no one to scold her, no lessons to learn, no tiresome straight walks with her governess, and above all, to have two playfellows always ready to join in pleasures and games! Kitty was an only child, and her life was often dull for want of companionship. Everything went on very well at first, for there was so much to do and see that there was no time for disputes. True, Kitty commanded as much as ever, and had a way of setting people to rights which was distinctly trying; but she and Betty did not come to any open disagreement until she had been at Holmwood for nearly a week. Nevertheless there had been many small occasions on which Betty had felt fretted and irritated; for Kitty, without the least intending it, seemed often to choose just the wrong thing to say and do.
And then she always wished to do exactly the same as Martha and herself, and that was so tiresome.
For instance, all the children were very fond of dear Miss Grey. But now it was always Kitty who must sit next to her, Kitty who rushed to supply her with roses to wear and strawberries to eat, Kitty who kissed her repeatedly at the most awkward moments. Martha and Betty, who naturally felt that Miss Grey was their own dear Miss Grey, could hardly get near her at all, and Betty resented this very much. In fact, she gradually got to dwell so entirely on these annoyances that she could not think of Kitty’s good qualities at all, and was quite unable to remember that she was generous and affectionate, and that her faults, though tiresome, were partly the result of a longing to be loved.
At last, the clouds having gathered, the storm came.
One morning, almost as soon as she got up, Betty felt that every single thing Kitty did or said was silly. It did not occur to her that perhaps she was a little bit cross herself, which was the real explanation.
After breakfast they all three went down to the pond, and, dividing the water into shares, began to fish for frogs and newts.
“In a minute,” said Betty to herself as she watched Kitty, “she’ll say Martha and I have the best places.”
It happened just so.