She longed to make an open confession, and get rid of the troublesome money, but had not the courage to do it without some help from Dotty.
"O, dear," thought she, "I feel just as wicked with that money in my bosom! Seems as if she could hear it crumple.

If Dotty would only let me talk to her first!" But Dotty continued as unapproachable as the Pope of Rome.

Eight o'clock came, and the two unhappy little girls went slowly up stairs to bed.

Dotty, in her lofty pride, tried to make her little friend feel herself a sinner; while Jennie, ready to hide herself in the potato-bin for shame, was, at the same time, very angry with the self-satisfied Miss Dimple.

She was awed by her superior goodness, but did not love her any the better for it.