"Come with me, Agnes. You surely don't mean to be seen walking with Melina Berryman? Let her go on alone."
Melina did not hear Agnes' response, but she had heard enough, and, quickening her footsteps, she hastened to get ahead of the others. She had not gone far, however, before Agnes overtook her.
"Don't be in such a hurry," Agnes said; "you know my way is the same as yours for a bit, and I want to talk to you."
"I'd rather be by myself, thank you," Melina replied untruthfully; "I'm not going to walk with you to—to disgrace you." This was said with an air of pride, not humility.
"What nonsense!" Agnes cried, flushing, and looking embarrassed.
"It's not nonsense! I know I'm dreadfully shabby, and—" Melina paused, with quivering lips and a lump in her throat.
Agnes could not contradict her, but she was a tactful little girl with a very kind heart, so she said:
"I was thinking just now how nice you had made yourself look—I was indeed. I had no idea before to-day that you had such lovely hair; what have you done to it? How fine and glossy it looks! Does it curl like that naturally?"
"Yes," Melina answered, a slow pleased smile creeping over her face. "I haven't done anything but wash and comb it," she explained; "I never used to take any trouble with it."
After that they went on together amicably, and Agnes suggested that they should meet on their way to Sunday school on the following Sunday afternoon, which Melina agreed to do, and when they separated they were on the best of terms with each other.