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Betty set her teeth and went, black rage in her heart, to cut out the hateful little cherayish unbleached calico from the schoolroom cupboard and heaved it on to the table It was very heavy The scissors were blunt and left deep red-blue indentations on finger and thumb She was rather pleased that the scissors hurt so le bit, he hates me," she said, "and I hate hi Not noith this fire of i in her, would she take out those ed through the litter of unbleached cotton cuttings She worked on doggedly, coathered up the pieces into the waste-paper basket and put away the roll

Not till the paint had been washed froed for a quite respectable 's memories to come out and meet her eyes Then she went down to the arbour where she had shelled peas only that o," she said And sitting there, she slowly and carefully went over everything What he had said, what she had said There were sos she could not quite reh "Brother artists" were the words she said oftenest to herself, but the words that sank the and innocent and beautiful like--like--"

"But he couldn't have meant me, of course," she told herself

And on Monday she would see hiive her a lesson!

Sunday was incredibly wearisome Her Sunday-school class had never been so tiresome nor so soaked in hair-oil In church she was shocked to find herself watching, from her pew in the chancel, the entry of late comers--of who She wrote up her diary Thursday and Friday were quickly chronicled At "Saturday" she paused long, pen in hand, and then wrote very quickly: "I went out sketching andto teachto paint my portrait I do not like hi I shall not tell father, because he is si toto get up so early I alo It will be such a bother"