"Why didn't I tell?" she moaned, in an agony of remorse. "I know I'm mean, and dishonest, and horrid, and the exact opposite of what she supposes. What would Keith say, if he knew? He'd never forgive me. He scolded me for not explaining that Mr. Bowden had painted part of my picture, and this is twice as bad. Keith is so absolutely honourable! I suppose I ought to go to Mabel now, and put things right. No, I can't! I simply can't! It would be worse than ever. I couldn't force myself to say it--the words would choke me!" A letter from Keith had arrived only that morning, a particularly nice, jolly letter, full of chatty news and of such affectionate enquiries about her own doings at school that it seemed to bring her into closer touch than usual with her brother. She wanted so much to stand well in Keith's opinion; and she recalled with a groan what he had said to her in the cornfield about her sketch: "Of all the sneaks, you're the biggest!" and, "Be a little straighter in future, if you want to keep chums with me." Yes, she was a sneak; it was not a pretty epithet, but it was a true one. In Keith's eyes this affair would be serious; he would never tolerate such conduct for one single moment. If she wished to act up to his principles, she must undeceive Mabel immediately, her own self-respect told her that. Yet she could not bring herself to do it, and for a whole week she wavered, her conscience reproaching her bitterly, and her pride pleading and ever pleading to put off the evil moment. "It's impossible to tell her straight out," she decided at last. "I'll write a letter and give it to her; that will be much easier, because I needn't stay to watch her read it. I know Keith would have gone and owned up; but then, I'm not Keith--I always mind things so much more than he does." Having resolved to make an explanation through the medium of pen, ink, and paper, she retired, when tea was over, to the empty classroom, and set herself to the unwelcome task. How difficult it was! She scribbled sheet after sheet, and tore up one after another. Her confession looked so bald and paltry when she saw it in black and white! It seemed so awkward to explain adequately how the mistake had arisen. After five fruitless attempts, she at last managed to arrive at a result which, if it did not satisfy her, at least contained the truth. She placed it in an envelope, and addressed it to Mabel Farrington, then stood turning it over and over in her hand. Was this letter to break their friendship?--so small a thing to have such a fateful result? Well, if it must be, she had better let it be done as quickly as possible; it was no use delaying any longer. Bracing up her nerves, therefore, she went down to look for Mabel.