I'm not going to let them kill all the fine feeling in you, as they've killed it in me." "Killed it!" said Lucia, reaching out for her sister's hand.

"You can't say it's dead, so long as you cry like you did last night, when you came home from the ball." Margaret reddened angrily, snatched her hand away.

"Shame on you!" she cried.

"I thought you were above spying." "The door was open between your bedroom and mine," pleaded Lucia.

"I couldn't help hearing." "You ought to have called out--or closed it.