"Tabitha!"
"She said you said she could have her choice and—"
"Will you listen to me?"
"She dumped my things out of the drawer—the bottom one—and poked them in those little mites of ones. It isn't fair—"
"Tabitha Catt!"
"For her to have two big ones and me two little ones, but—"
"Tabitha, leave the room until I call you again!"
"She wouldn't give up either one," and in a perfect storm of grief and anger, Tabitha swept out of the room, her expostulations still pouring in a torrent from her quivering lips; and throwing herself flat on the hall floor, she buried her face in her arms.
For some minutes Miss Pomeroy's low, even voice could be heard in the little room at the end of the corridor, interrupted occasionally by Chrystobel's sullen tones; then Tabitha was summoned again, and with reddened eyes she entered the door to learn her fate.
"Tabitha, Chrystobel is sorry she took your belongings out of the bottom drawer without asking your leave, and she has put them back as she found them—"