"You have been too much in the world, Kitty. My little Kitty, did I do wrong to leave you? When mother died she left you in my charge. Did I do wrong to let Mrs. Keith adopt you? It seems to me—I scarcely like to say it—that you—"
"Oh, do say it, please—do say it," remarked Kitty.
"You are less unselfish than you used to be, and more—oh, I hate myself even for thinking it—more worldly."
"No, no, I am not; but I am anxious," replied the younger girl. "There are many things to make me—yes, anxious just now. But I hope I shall be the happiest girl on earth soon."
"Kitty, suppose—"
"Suppose what?" asked Kitty. "Oh, what awful thing are you going to say now, Mollie?"
"Nothing. I won't say it," replied Mollie suddenly. "I have finished breakfast. I can go out with you whenever you like."
Kitty gazed in a frightened way at her sister.
"It is nothing, dear," said Mollie tenderly. "I have given you my little lecture, and I will say nothing further at present."
"And I am not all bad, and I love you, and I hope to be the happiest girl on earth before long," was Kitty's rejoinder. And then she flew upstairs to put on her hat and jacket.