only said it to be unkind. I'd a lot rather go to boarding-school than to go poking around where I wasn't wanted; I can tell you that."
"She can't help it," I said.
Bess got up and stood in front of me stiffly. "Well, all right, Chester Williams," she said; "If you want her to come, why, have her come,—I don't care. I probably sha'n't see much of either of you, so it won't bother me any," and she turned to walk off.
Gee! Here I had been just about holding my breath for two months, waiting for Bess to get home, and now, in half an hour we were squabbling worse than we ever had in our lives before. It made me mad.
"Bess," I said, "what's the use of your being so blamed unpleasant? You know I don't want her to come,—I've told you so enough times,—so there isn't anything for us to quarrel about;—but what are we going to do about it? That's the question. Can't we boycott her? We haven't either of us any use for her; do you suppose we could make it disagreeable enough so she wouldn't want to stay?"
Bess sat down again and broke off some long
