“Why doesn’t Aunt Pike teach her better?  She is always telling us what to do, and that it is good for us to try and be different, and—­and all that sort of thing.”

“But Aunt Pike wouldn’t believe that Anna is mean; she thinks she is perfection,” said Kitty.

“Oh, well, I s’pose a jewel’s a duck in a toad’s eye,” misquoted Betty complacently; “at least, that is what Fanny said, and I think she is right.  Fanny often is.”

When they met the next day Betty gave her cousin another shock, perhaps more severe than the one she had had during the night, for frankness always shocked Anna Pike.

“I do think, Anna,” she said gravely, “it is a pity you let yourself do such mean things.  Of course you didn’t really think our room was on fire last night, and every one but Aunt Pike knows you were only sneaking.  If you go on like that, you won’t be able to stop yourself when you want to, and nobody will ever like you.”

Anna’s little restless eyes grew hard and unpleasant-looking.  “I have more friends than you have, or Kitty either,” she retorted, “and I am ever so much more friendly with the girls at school than you are.”  A remark which stung Miss Betty sharply, for though she did not like either Lettice or Maude Kitson, she resented the way in which they had gone over to Anna, with whom Lettice in particular had struck up a violent friendship—­the sort of friendship which requires secret signals, long whisperings in corners, the passing of many surreptitious notes, and is particularly aggravating to all lookers-on.

Kitty saw it all too, of course, but instead of feeling annoyed as Betty did by it, she felt a sense of relief that Anna had ceased to be her shadow, and had attached herself to some one else.

“If Anna isn’t sorry some day for being so chummy with Lettice,” said Betty seriously, “Lettice will be for being so chummy with Anna.”  But Kitty could not see that.  She did not care for Lettice, but it never occurred to her that her behaviour was worse than foolish, or that she should warn Anna against the friendship.  Not that it would have done any good, probably, if she had.

It might have been better for them all, though, if Kitty had been more suspicious and alert, for she might then have seen what was happening, and perhaps have avoided the catastrophe to which they were all hastening.  But, of course, if you have no suspicions of people, you cannot be on your guard against something that you do not know exists; and Kitty suspected nothing, not even when Betty came home one day with an unpleasant tale of foolishness to tell.

“I won’t walk home with Anna any more,” she cried hotly.  “She asks me to go with her, and then tries to get rid of me.  I know why she wanted to, though:  she had a letter to post and didn’t want me to see it.  I suppose,” indignantly, “she thought I would try to read the address, or would sneak about it!”