for a little chat, but she was one of those unpleasant persons who, when
some one person has annoyed her, is vexed with the whole world. She took
little heed as to where she was going, and stamped along, muttering some
of the many wrathful thoughts that filled her mind.

Reaching a door that stood ajar, she pushed it open, and rushed in
exclaiming:

"The horrid old thing tried to pick open my parcel, but I wouldn't let
her. I guess Miss Sharp-eyes won't try again to--Why, where are you,
Arabella?"

A tall, thin girl with a pale face and colorless hair emerged from the
closet where she had been hanging some garments.

"Do you rush into people's rooms, and call them names?" she asked in a
peculiar drawl.

Patricia for once, was too surprised to speak.

"My name is not Arabella, nor Miss Sharp-eyes," concluded the girl.

"I--I beg your pardon. I thought this was my own room," gasped Patricia,
and rushing from the room, opened the next door on which her own name
and Arabella's appeared. She flew in, banging the door behind her.

Arabella sprang to her feet, dropped her glasses, picked them up, and
setting them upon her nose, stared through them at Patricia.

"Don't you speak a single word!" commanded Patricia, "for I'm 'bout as