“Will Wentworth, I want my property, if you please; that paper I gave you to keep for me,” a very different voice—­a high, sharp voice that the whole four recognized at once—­interrupted here.

Tilly started, and turned pale.

“Don’t be frightened, Tilly, she sha’n’t have it,” whispered Will.

Agnes flushed resentfully as she came forward and saw the confidential friendliness of the little group.  For “that girl” she had been neglected and disregarded like this!  Not a moment longer would she bear such insults.  It was all nonsense,—­all that stuff about being prosecuted for showing up facts.  She would be stopped by that foolishness no longer.  She would first take her stand boldly, and let everybody know what a fraud this Miss Smith was.  These were some of the wild thoughts that leaped up out of the bitter fountain in Agnes’s distorted mind at that instant, and her voice was sharper than ever as she again said,—­

“I want my property,—­the paper I gave you to keep for me.”

Will had risen to his feet, and answered very coolly, “I can’t give it to you.”

“What do you mean?  Have you lost it?”

“No, but I can’t give it to you.”

“Have you read it?”

“Yes, and that’s the reason I don’t give it to you.  I know if I should you would—­”

“Probably give it to Miss Smithson,” cried Agnes, shrilly.  “Miss Smithson,” going toward Peggy, “I—­”

“Oh, Peggy, Peggy, come with me.  We’re all your friends,—­grandmother and I and Will and Tom; and we know how sweet and innocent you are.  Oh, Peggy, come, come, and don’t listen to her!” burst forth Tilly, in an agony of pity and horror, as she put an arm around Peggy to draw her away.

But Peggy was not to be drawn away.

“What in the world is the matter?  What is it all about?  What do you mean, Tilly, dear, by ‘innocent’?  What has she,” glancing at Agnes disdainfully “been getting up against me?”

“Oh, Peggy, Peggy, don’t!” moaned Tilly.

“Well, this is rich,” laughed Agnes, jeeringly.  “Nobody has been getting up anything against you, Miss Smithson.”

“What do you mean by calling me Miss Smithson?  That isn’t my name.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” derisively.  “How long since did you change it for Smith?”

“I have never changed it for Smith.”

“Oh, I believe that ‘Miss Smith’ is down on the hotel register, and you answer to that name.”

CHAPTER VI.

“I beg your pardon,” said Peggy, looking at Agnes with great scorn.  “‘Mrs. Smith and niece’ are down on the register.  It was the clerk who registered us in that way, and all of you seemed to take it for granted that my name must be Smith also.  Perhaps I ought to have corrected the mistake at once; but after I overheard that conversation on the piazza, and—­saw somebody examining the register a few minutes later” glancing away from Agnes with a smile at Will, who looked rather sheepish—­“after that I thought I’d let the mistake go until the rest of the family arrived, it was so amusing.”