For the summer, the Wadsmiths had a pleasant house out in the country, and the winter months they spent in hotel apartments in the city.

Gradually it came to Anna to take the whole direction of their movements, to make all the decisions as to their journeyings to and fro, and for the arranging of the places where they were to live.

Anna had been with Miss Mary for three years, when little Jane began to raise her strength in opposition.  Jane was a neat, pleasant little girl, pretty and sweet with a young girl’s charm, and with two blonde braids carefully plaited down her back.

Miss Mary, like her Anna, had no strong natural feeling to love children, but she was fond of these two young ones of her blood, and yielded docilely to the stronger power in the really pleasing little girl.  Anna always preferred the rougher handling of the boy, while Miss Mary found the gentle force and the sweet domination of the girl to please her better.

In a spring when all the preparations for the moving had been made, Miss Mary and Jane went together to the country home, and Anna, after finishing up the city matters was to follow them in a few days with Edgar, whose vacation had not yet begun.

Many times during the preparations for this summer, Jane had met Anna with sharp resistance, in opposition to her ways.  It was simple for little Jane to give unpleasant orders, not from herself but from Miss Mary, large, docile, helpless Miss Mary Wadsmith who could never think out any orders to give Anna from herself.

Anna’s eyes grew slowly sharper, harder, and her lower teeth thrust a little forward and pressing strongly up, framed always more slowly the “Yes, Miss Jane,” to the quick, “Oh Anna!  Miss Mary says she wants you to do it so!”

On the day of their migration, Miss Mary had been already put into the carriage.  “Oh, Anna!” cried little Jane running back into the house, “Miss Mary says that you are to bring along the blue dressings out of her room and mine.”  Anna’s body stiffened, “We never use them in the summer, Miss Jane,” she said thickly.  “Yes Anna, but Miss Mary thinks it would be nice, and she told me to tell you not to forget, good-by!” and the little girl skipped lightly down the steps into the carriage and they drove away.

Anna stood still on the steps, her eyes hard and sharp and shining, and her body and her face stiff with resentment.  And then she went into the house, giving the door a shattering slam.

Anna was very hard to live with in those next three days.  Even Baby, the new puppy, the pride of Anna’s heart, a present from her friend the widow, Mrs. Lehntman—­even this pretty little black and tan felt the heat of Anna’s scorching flame.  And Edgar, who had looked forward to these days, to be for him filled full of freedom and of things to eat—­he could not rest a moment in Anna’s bitter sight.

On the third day, Anna and Edgar went to the Wadsmith country home.  The blue dressings out of the two rooms remained behind.