their artful selfishness always to tell her when they came back, under
pretence of confidence and friendship, all those details about where they
had been, and what they had done and seen, and how often they had said,
"O! If we had only darling little Kitty here!" Here indeed! I dare
say! When they came back after the holidays, they were used to being
received by Kitty, and to saying that coming to Kitty was like coming to
another home. Very well then, why did they go away? If the meant it,
why did they go away? Let them answer that. But they didn't mean it,
and couldn't answer that, and they didn't tell the truth, and people who
didn't tell the truth were hateful. When they came back next time, they
should be received in a new manner; they should be avoided and shunned.

And there, the while she sat all alone revolving how ill she was used,
and how much better she was than the people who were not alone, the
wedding breakfast was going on: no question of it! With a nasty great
bride-cake, and with those ridiculous orange-flowers, and with that
conceited bride, and that hideous bridegroom, and those heartless
bridesmaids, and Miss Pupford stuck up at the table! They thought they
were enjoying themselves, but it would come home to them one day to have
thought so. They would all be dead in a few years, let them enjoy
themselves ever so much. It was a religious comfort to know that.

It was such a comfort to know it, that little Miss Kitty Kimmeens
suddenly sprang from the chair in which she had been musing in a corner,
and cried out, "O those envious thoughts are not mine, O this wicked
creature isn't me! Help me, somebody! I go wrong, alone by my weak
self! Help me, anybody!"

* * * * *