"Tut, tut. Go on. You were saying——"
"Oh, what was I saying? What were we talking about?" asked Fenie, with charming but entirely transparent hypocrisy. "Oh, I was merely going to say that if Trixy hadn't made that dreadful speech to him the other night, I wouldn't have missed one delightful party—perhaps two, to which he and his oldest sister would have taken me."
"Oh, I see. 'Tis only the parties that trouble you."
"Tryphosa," exclaimed Fenie indignantly, as she arose from her chair, "I think you're real unkind—real tormenting. First you make fun of me for talking a lot about him, and then you make me talk about him a great deal more. I wasn't going to say a word about him this afternoon, but you've kept me at it in spite of myself. Perhaps you don't want me to like him. Well, I shan't oblige you. I do like him. I'm not a bit in love with him, but I do like him ever so much, and I'm not a bit ashamed to say so. There!"
"Bravo!" exclaimed Trif, springing from her chair and throwing her arms about her sister. "I'm glad that at last you know your own mind. Now stop acting like a child, and be the woman you have the right to be. I'm proud of you, my darling sister—proud of your honesty and spirit. But—why, my dear girl, what is the matter?"
"Harry's been driven away from here," sobbed Fenie, "and I'm dreadful unhappy about it, and I want him to come back."
"Hurrah," sounded a high childish treble. The sisters looked in the direction of the sound, and there stood Trixy, with glowing cheeks and dancing eyes as she continued:
"I want him to come back, too, for he promised to bring me a doll."
"Trixy," exclaimed Fenie severely. Trixy understood at once and looked guilty, but she explained: