This affecting prospect somewhat mollified Gracie's vexation; but still she answered in a tone of strong resentment,—
"Well, then; and why did you say hateful things about me to Hattie?"
"I didn't," said Fanny, who had so little intention of making unkind remarks about Gracie that she had really forgotten her conversation with Hattie. "I didn't. I never said a thing about you."
"Hattie said you did," answered Gracie; "she says you told her I thought myself very wonderful, but I was not; and that 'most all the girls were better scholars than me."
"I didn't," said Fanny indignantly.
"And she says," continued Gracie, "that you said 'cause I thought myself good did not make me good, and that Nellie wrote better compositions than I did. And she says"—this was plainly the first and worst count in Gracie's eyes—"she says you said no one could help knowing I was conceited and stuck up."
This last speech suddenly recalled to Fanny's mind what she had said, and she was dismayed; nor could she see how she was to explain it to Gracie.
She was fond of Gracie, who, when her self-conceit did not come in her way, was really a pleasant and lovable child; and, oh! how she did wish she had never allowed Hattie to lead her into that conversation about her schoolmates.
She colored violently and exclaimed,—
"Well, I did say that, but I did not say it in that way, Gracie. I don't quite know how it was, but it did not seem so bad as that when I said it. And Hattie asked me, so I couldn't help saying what I thought; but it wasn't of my own accord and—and—well, you know, Gracie, most all of us do think you think a good deal of yourself—but—oh, dear! it was too mean for Hattie to go and tell you; and somehow I suppose she's made you think it was worse than it was. 'Cause I didn't mean to say any thing hateful about you; but Hattie asked such a lot of questions, and I never thought she'd go and tell; and I'm going away, and I expect I'll never come back, and, oh, dear, it's too mean!"