“Do you know that I am tired? I have had a very long journey; I have come all the way from France. Aunt Jessie is very busy, and said that I might come up to the schoolroom and amuse myself. She did not know that you were here; she said nothing about you. Now, what I want to say is this: if I keep your secret, will you make things pleasant to me?”
“But—but,” said Nan, “I don’t know that I want it to be kept a secret.”
“Oh! you would like Kitty to know that you had stolen into her preserves when she was out, and that your dog had killed her pet rat? It would be so pleasant for you, would it not?”
“It would not be pleasant at all,” replied Nan. “Why are you speaking in that tone?”
“I only thought that perhaps you were going to enjoy it. And what good would it do making Kitty unhappy? The rat was ill when she left; she would take its death as a matter of course. She would not know that Jack had killed it.”
“But suppose—oh, suppose she ever finds out!”
“How can she find out if you do not tell and I do not tell?”
“You tempt me,” said Nan; “but it does not seem right.”
“Never mind whether it is right or not; do it.”
“Very well,” said Nan.