hurt at all."

Father laughed then, actually laughed. She was glad to see the
serious look removed from his face; but she still begrudged all that
candy.

Nor was that the end of the part played by the candy. That night, as
she was kneeling in her nightgown by the window, gazing out at the
white moonlight and trying to summon the lovely thoughts the night's
magic used to bring, the door opened softly and mother came
tiptoeing in.

"You ought to be in bed, dear," she said. No, Missy reflected, she
could never, never be really cross with mother. She climbed into bed
and, with a certain degree of comfort, watched mother smooth up the
sheet and fold the counterpane carefully over the foot-rail.

"Mrs. O'Neill just phoned," mother said. "Tess is very sick. It
seems she and Arthur got hold of that bucket of candy."

"Oh," said Missy.

That was all she said, all she felt capable of saying. The twisted
thoughts, emotions and revulsions which surge in us as we watch the
inexplicable workings of Fate are often difficult of expression.
But, after mother had kissed her good night and gone, she lay
pondering for a long time. Life is curiously unfair. That Tess and
Arthur should have got the candy for which SHE suffered, that the
very hours she'd been shut up with shame and disgrace THEY were
gorging themselves, seemed her climactic crown of sorrow.