"It really was funny, you know. Miss Hartill was talking to Daffy and the row going on next door--you couldn't help hearing--and suddenly Daffy said--Daffy had been fidgeting for some time--'Listen!' and Clarissa said, 'Oho-o!' You know her way, with about ten o's at the end; and Daffy said, 'There! Now do you believe me?' kind of crowing. And Miss Hartill, she just smiled, like a cat with cream, and said, 'All right, Alwynne! All right, my dear!' and went into the next room. Say, it was exciting! She didn't raise her voice, but she just let herself go, and in about two minutes Agatha came out like a ripe cheese--literally crawling. I wish she hadn't shut the door. I couldn't hear any more. I could see, of course, and you bet I watched out of the tail of my eye. Daffy never noticed me." "What happened then?" "Oh! They stood and talked, and Mademoiselle was scarlet and seemed to be pitching into Miss Hartill, as far as I could see, and Miss Hartill was letting her talk herself out, and sometimes she smiled and said something; that always started Mademoiselle off again. And at last Mademoiselle went and sat in one of the window-seats, and I couldn't see her face, but I imagined she was howling. French people always do. Clarissa went and patted her shoulder." "She is a dear!" Loyally Louise bit back her instant jealousy. "Oh, she was enjoying herself," said Cynthia coolly. "You should have seen her face. Sort of smiling at her own thoughts. Have you ever seen a spider smile?" Louise disdained an answer. "Nor have I! Have a candy? But I bet I know what it looks like." "Well, what happened?" demanded Louise impatiently. "Oh, it was annoying! Daffy came and sat down in my place, to correct. I couldn't see any more. Only when Miss Hartill came out (she didn't notice me, I was putting away the group), she said to Daffy, 'She's coming to tea on Friday.' And Daffy said, 'Clare, you're a wonder!' And Miss Hartill said, 'I didn't do it for her, Alwynne!' And Daffy got pink. Clarissa did look pleased with herself." "Well, so she ought! Wouldn't you be--if you could make people happy?" Cynthia threw up her hands. "Happy! Oh, Momma! Are you happy?" Louise winced. "Is Daffy? Mademoiselle? Any of you fools? Oh, it's no use talking! You won't believe me when I tell you that she's a cat. Yes, a pussy-cat, Louise! A silky, purring pussy-cat, pawing you, pat--pat--so softly, like kisses. But if you wriggle--my! Look out for claws! Have a candy?" Louise gathered herself together. She came close to the bed, and leaning over the older girl, spoke-- "I don't understand what you're driving at--but you're wrong. It's you that's a fool. You misjudge her, utterly. You don't understand her--you're not fit to." "Are you?" Cynthia laughed at her openly. "Of course not. No one--Daffy does, of course. But us?--girls? Just because she's been heavenly to you, you take advantage, to watch her, to judge, to twist all she says and does. Why do you hate her so?"