"'I am not happy,' answered Alice. 'Since you came everything has changed; you have made my home miserable to me. I don't like your ways.'
"'Have you made up your mind never to be friends with me?' I asked.
"'Yes,' said Alice. 'I wish you would go away.' She sat up in bed then with her tear-stained face, and looked at me ever so earnestly. 'Tell mother that you would rather go to some other house—that you won't stay here. I never could stand vulgar girls, and you are one.'
"Oh Gwin, I felt so mad. You don't think me a vulgar girl, do you?"
"Tell me the whole," said Gwin in a low voice.
"Oh, there is not much more. Alice was in a regular temper. She buried her face in the clothes, and though I tried pinching her, and pulling her, and petting her even, not another word would she utter. Now, you must see for yourself, Gwin, that if this sort of thing goes on I shall have to return home, and then the old dad will be fretted, and he will think that I don't want to learn manners nor to get learning into me. Oh dear, I don't want to fret him, although I hate England. I have just been wondering if you would speak to Alice."
"Yes, certainly," answered Gwin. "I—" Her words were interrupted.
"Miss Malone, do I see you in the playground?" said a stern voice. Miss
Worrick had appeared on the scene.
"Why, then, yes, Miss Worrick, you do. It's a fine day, isn't it; and the air is most refreshing," said Kitty in her most impertinent tones.
"Do you know that you have distinctly disobeyed me? I forbade you to leave the schoolroom during recess. How dared you do so?"