Had Dr. Trenire been at home he would have interfered, and rescued her from her wraps and shawls, heavy serge frock, woollen stockings, and innumerable warm garments; or, perhaps, if Anna had not been so afraid of her mother, but had appealed to her candidly and without fear, she might have obtained relief.  This, unfortunately, was not Anna’s way, for Anna’s ways were still as crooked and shifty as her glances.  She would think out this plan and that plan to avoid the only one that was straightforward and right, though it must be said for her that she did try to be more open and honourable—­at times she tried quite hard; but since Kitty had gone, and she had been so much with her mother, all her old foolish fears of her had come back with renewed strength, and all her old mean ways and crooked plans for getting her own way and escaping scoldings.

Now, instead of asking to be relieved from some of her burdensome clothing, she made up her mind to destroy the things she detested most, and trust to not being found out; or, if she was found out—­well, “the things must have been lost at the laundry.”  This seemed to her an excellent explanation.

So, one day when her mother was out and Betty and Tony had gone for a drive with Dr. Yearsley, Anna betook herself to the garden with some of her most loathed garments under her arm, and a box of matches in her pocket.  A bonfire on a summer’s day is easy to ignite, and there was just sufficient breeze to fan the flame to active life, so Anna was in the midst of her work of destruction almost before she realized it.  But, while waiting for her mother to depart, Anna had forgotten that the time was hurrying on towards Betty’s and Tony’s return.  In fact, they drove up but a moment or so after she had left the house on her guilty business.

“Miss Anna has gone up the garden,” said Fanny in answer to Betty’s inquiries; and Betty, following her slowly, was in time to see a blaze leaping up, and a cloud of smoke and sparks.  She quickened her steps, for something interesting seemed to be happening.  “Surely Anna isn’t trying to smoke out that wasps’ nest,” she thought in sudden alarm.  “She will be stung to death if she is,” and Betty took to her heels to try to stop her.  But when she got past the rows of peas and beans that had hidden Anna, she saw that what her cousin was poking up was not a wasps’ nest, but a heap that was blazing on the ground.

“What are you doing?” gasped Betty excitedly.  “What a lovely fire!”

At the sound of a voice Anna spun round quickly, the very picture of frightened guilt; but when she saw Betty her fear turned to anger, hot and uncontrollable because she was frightened.

“You are always spying and prying after me,” she cried passionately.  “Why can I never have a moment to myself?  Other people can, and why can’t I?”

Poor Anna was hot and overdone, and her nerves were so much on edge that she scarcely knew what she was doing or saying.  But Betty had no knowledge of nerves, and under this unfair accusation she could make no allowance for her cousin, and her temper rose too.