"But why have you left the others?" asked Bessie. "Never mind, dear, now. I'll just sit quietly here, and contemplate you while you are studying." Bessie sighed impatiently. She then bent again over her book, and began to devour the pages. Kitty watched her with marked interest. "I wonder if it will be my fate to have to take up with literature in sober earnest," she said to herself, "I, who can never abide a book. Oh, to be back again in the dear old place! I should not be a bit surprised if Laurie is out fishing now, and Pat with him. And oh, suppose they are bringing in the trout, and the creatures are leaping and struggling as they come to shore, and father is going round to feed the dogs--why, the thought is enough to madden me. Oh, then, why did I ever leave home? I don't care _that_ for books, nor for being clever nor for--How she works to be sure! How earnest she looks. She has got a very fine forehead, although it is miles too high. She ought to wear a fringe; it would improve her wonderfully. I will cut her hair some day if she will let me. I will cut it and curl it. I have got the dearest little jewel of a pair of curling tongs that ever was seen! Aunt Honora sent it to me in a box with a spirit lamp all complete when I got the rest of my things. I'll just exercise those little tongs on dear, nice Bessie. I do wish she would not be so devoted to that book, she might talk. Oh, I am lonely. I think I'll fidget a bit." Kitty moved her chair, creaking it ominously; but Bessie had got to a most thrilling part of her subject, and Kitty might have creaked the library down before she would have roused her companion's attention. "Now, if I sigh, perhaps that will do it," thought Kitty. She opened her mouth and let some profound sighs come up from the depths of her heart; but they only depressed her still more, and had no effect whatever on Bessie. "I think I hate intellectual people," muttered the Irish girl. She jumped to her feet. "I must do something to rouse her or I shall go mad. She is the nicest of them all, much. I wish she would speak to me. Why should I break my heart, and why should she simply go on devouring that stupid book? Here, I know what I'll do. I'll just toss down one of the big volumes; it will make a clatter and she will have to look up. Perhaps I'll let it drop just the tiniest bit in the world on the corner of her toe; that will finish her." Here Kitty laughed excitedly, pushed out her arm and knocked over a huge volume which certainly fell a good deal more than a tiny bit on poor Bessie's foot. "Oh, Kitty, what have you done?" cried Bessie. "You have quite hurt me. I wish you would not drop the books about." "There, darling, I had to do it. Pray forgive me," said Kitty. "You had to do it!" answered Bessie. "Do you mean that you did it on purpose?" "Why, then, yes, love--that's what I do mean exactly. I did it because I wanted you to talk to me, and you _would_ think of nothing but that book."