"I don't want to have anything more to do with her, honey. She has taken to arguing with me in that long self-satisfied drawl, and I have 'most got to hate her. I wouldn't mind so much if she was ever right, but she is a downright fool, and I reckon all fools are pretty much alike. And I have a horrible idea that she suspects something. I have seen her staring at my finger-nails two or three times. And I am 'most sure some one has gone through the little trunk I keep my letters in. Of course the key is always in my purse, but she may have had one that fits, and the things are not like I left them, I am 'most sure." "She probably envies your finger-nails, and the trunk, doubtless, was upset in travelling. Besides, I don't think she's malignant. Like most underbred persons, she is curious, and she has cultivated the trait until it has become a disease." "But there's no knowing what she might do if she took a dislike to me. She's not bad-hearted at all, but she could be spiteful, and I can't and won't stand her any longer. I reckon I'd like to go to Europe, anyhow. I feel as if every one was guessing my secret. Over there you say they don't mind those things, and I'd enjoy being in that kind of a place." "Go, by all means. I'll write at once and inquire about a chaperon--" "Oh, I don't want to go just yet. September will do. I reckon these mountains are about as cool at this time of the year as anywhere, and they make me feel strong." She added abruptly: "Does Sally suspect?" Betty nodded. "Yes, she surprised the truth out of me. I am more sorry--" Harriet had gripped her arm with both hands. Her face was ghastly. "She knows? She knows?" she gasped. "Then she will tell him. Oh! Why was I ever born?" Betty made her sit down and took her head in her arms. Harriet was weeping with more passion than she ever had seen her display. "You believe me always, don't you?" she said. "For Miss Trumbull I cannot answer, but for Sally I can--positively. She never would do a mean and ignoble thing." "She loves him!" That is the more reason for not telling him. Cannot you understand high-mindedness?" "Oh, yes. You are high-minded, and _he_--that is the reason I should die if he found out; for he hates, he loathes deceit. Oh, I've grown to hate this country. I love you, but I'd like to forget that it was ever on the map. I wish I was coal black and had been born in Africa." "Why don't you go there and live, set up a sort of court?" asked Betty, seized with an inspiration. "And live among niggers? I despise and abhor niggers! If one put his dirty black paw on me, I'd 'most kill him!" Betty turned away her head to conceal a smile; but Harriet, who was wholly without humour, continued: "Betty, honey, I want you to promise me that if I ever do anything to disappoint you, you'll forgive me. I love you so I couldn't bear to have you despise me." "What have you been doing?" asked Betty, anxiously.