"Glad of it."
"Why, Cassy, you're crazy! That regard-ring, dear, that your ma gave you, and you gave me for my emerald, down by the acorn-tree! Why, Cassy!"
"I said I was glad," replied Cassy, in a softer tone. "I mean glad you didn't take off the ring and go hide it. I supposed you did, just to let me see you didn't care for me any more."
A complete revulsion of feeling had come over Grace: she laughed and cried in a breath.
"O, you old Cassy! to think I ever could—"
"There," said her friend, placidly, "let it all go."
"But I can't let it go; it's a downright wicked shame. Now, Cassy, I ask you if we ought to allow such a girl as Isa in our R. S. S.?"
"Not if I was queen, we wouldn't," was the decided answer.
Now that the reconciliation was complete, Cassy declared she had a world to say, and Grace replied that she had "a hemisphere to say, herself." Then she told the story of the gypsy, and made confession that her dismal fortune had kept her awake "night after night."
"Humph!" said Cassy; "nothing ever keeps me awake! Thunder can't, nor cannons; and I'm sure that crazy old woman couldn't. What about the prize, Gracie?"