stinging, smarting sensations no better because she felt she didn't
deserve them. That heavy sense of injustice somewhat deadened any
pricks of guilt when, later, she stealthily removed the pepper-and-
salts from the upstairs store-closet.

But Aunt Nettie's eagle eyes chanced to see her. She went to Mrs.
Merriam.

"What do you suppose Missy wants of those old pepper-and-salt
pants?"

"I don't know, Nettie. Why?"

"She's just sneaked 'em off to her room. When she saw me coming up
the stairs, she scampered as if Satan was after her. What DO you
suppose she wants of them?"

"I can't imagine," repeated Mrs. Merriam. "Maybe she hardly knows
herself--girls that age are like a boiling tea-kettle; yon know;
their imagination keeps bubbling up and spilling over, and then
disappears into vapour. I sometimes think we bother Missy too much
with questions--she doesn't know the answers herself."

Mrs. Merriam was probably feeling the compunctions mothers often
feel after they have scolded.

Aunt Nettie sniffed a little, but Missy wasn't questioned. And now
the scene of our story may shift to a sunny morning, a few days
later, and to the comparative seclusion of the sanitarium barn.
There has been, for an hour or more, a suppressed sound of giggles,