She's been under a good deal of nervous strain lately." "No; I'm not flighty," persisted Azalea, who was entirely composed now, and who spoke firmly, though she was evidently controlling herself with an effort.
"And I'm going to confess now," she went on.

"Now and here.

Miss Grayson is so kind and dear I don't mind her knowing, and the rest of you _must_ know.

I must tell you,--I can't _live_ if I don't." "All right, Zaly, dear, tell us," and Patty sat beside her, and put a caressing hand on her arm.
"I am Alice Adams," Azalea said, "and I am not Azalea Thorpe at all,--and I never was." "Oh!" said Farnsworth, beginning to see light.
"I am a wicked girl," the pathetic little voice went on.

"I lived in Homer's Corners,--and I lived with the woman who keeps the post-office there.