"You certainly are not," said Elma. "Dear me, Kitty, what a very
extraordinary specimen you are!"

"Well, don't scold me, for pity's sake," said Kitty. "I am so sick of
every one telling me that I am an extraordinary specimen. In Ireland
they think I am a very fine specimen; but here! oh, it's nothing but
holding up of hands and rolling up of eyes, and 'Oh, dear, let us get
out of her way!' and 'Oh, dear, how queer she looks in her grand
clothes!' and--and----"

"Do stop talking, Kitty. You are the most awful rattlepate----"

"There, now, on you go," said poor Kitty. "I'm a rattlepate, am I? It
seems that I can never speak but I get into somebody's black books."

"You don't get into mine, I am sure," said Elma. "But I think you ought
to be greatly obliged to me for telling you what is your plain duty with
regard to the Tug-of-war Society. It is just like a secret society; our
rules are our own, and not a soul who is not a member must know anything
about them."

"Well, I won't tell," said Kitty. "When I say a thing I stick to it. I
won't split--there I that's flat and I suppose I am obliged to you,
Elma."

"Yon ought to be," answered Elma. "Why, what a terrible scrape you would
have got into. And now, then, Kitty, I have something else to tell you."

"Well, and what is it?" asked Kitty.