"I ate up the cake!" cried Annie; "It's no such a thing; I never touched it!" Her face flushed as she spoke.
"O, but you did," persisted Susy; "I suppose you've forgotten! You went to the cake-chest this morning, and last night, and yesterday noon, and ever so many more times."
Annie was too angry to speak.
"But it's just as well," added Susy, politely; "you could have it as well as not, and perfectly welcome!"
"What are you talking about?" cried Annie, indignantly; for she thought she saw a look of surprise and contempt on Flossy's face, and fancied that Flossy despised her because she had a weakness for fruit-cake.
"I wonder if you take me for a pig, Susy Parlin! I heard what your mother said about that cake! She said it was too dry for her company, but it was too rich for little girls, and we must only eat a teeny speck at a time. I told my mamma, and she laughed, to think such mean dried-up cake was too rich for little girls!"
Susy felt her temper rising, but her desire to be polite did not desert her.
"It was rich, nice cake, Annie; but mother said the slices had been cut a great while, and it was drying up. Let's not talk any more about it."
"O, but I shall talk more about it," cried Annie, still more irritated; "you keep hinting that I tell wrong stories and steal cake; yes, you do! and then you ain't willing to let me speak!"
All this sounded like righteous indignation, but was only anger. Annie was entirely in the wrong, and knew it; therefore she lost her temper.