and shall not forget it."

"You ungrateful wretch," exclaimed Agatha, turning upon her so suddenly
and imperiously that she involuntarily shrank aside: "how often, when
you have tried to be insolent and false with me, have I not driven away
your bad angel--by tickling you? Had you a friend in the college, except
half-a-dozen toadies, until I came? And now, because I have sometimes,
for your own good, shown you your faults, you bear malice against me,
and say that you don't care whether we part friends or not!"

"I didn't say so."

"Oh, Gertrude, you know you did," said Jane.

"You seem to think that I have no conscience," said Gertrude
querulously.

"I wish you hadn't," said Agatha. "Look at me! I have no conscience, and
see how much pleasanter I am!"

"You care for no one but yourself," said Gertrude. "You never think that
other people have feelings too. No one ever considers me."

"Oh, I like to hear you talk," cried Jane ironically. "You are
considered a great deal more than is good for you; and the more you are
considered the more you want to be considered."

"As if," declaimed Agatha theatrically, "increase of appetite did grow
by what it fed on. Shakespeare!"