“Especially,” said Julia, “when, as Gladys Ferguson says, I haven’t anybody in the world but you, to turn to in my trouble.  I am a fatherless girl” (her voice quivered here), “and I am a guest in your house.”

Mrs. Carey’s blood rose a little as she looked at poor Kitty’s shaken body and streaming eyes, and Julia’s unforgiving face.  “You are wrong there, Julia.  I fail to see why you should not take your full share of our misfortunes, and suffer as much as we, from our too small income.  It is not our fault, it is not yours.  You are not a privileged guest, you are one of the family.  If you are fatherless just now, my children are fatherless forever; yet you have not made one single burden lighter by joining our forces.  You have been an outsider, instead of putting yourself loyally into the breach, and working with us heart to heart.  I welcomed you with open arms and you have made my life harder, much harder, than it was before your coming.  To protect you I have had to discipline my own children continually, and all the time you were putting their tempers to quite unnecessary tests!  I am not extenuating Kathleen, but I merely say you have no right to behave as you do.  You are thirteen years old, quite old enough to make up your mind whether you wish to be loved by anybody or not; at present you are not!”

Never had the ears of the Paragon heard such disagreeably plain speech.  She was not inclined to tears, but moisture began to appear in her eyes and she looked as though a shower were imminent.  Aunt Margaret was magnificent in her wrath, and though Julia feared, she admired her.  Not to be loved, if that really were to be her lot, rather terrified Julia.  She secretly envied Nancy’s unconscious gift of drawing people to her instantly; men, women, children,—­dogs and horses, for that matter.  She never noticed that Nancy’s heart ran out to meet everybody, and that she was overflowing with vitality and joy and sympathy; on the contrary, she considered the tribute of affection paid to Nancy as a part of Nancy’s luck.  Virtuous, conscientious, intelligent, and well-dressed as she felt herself to be, she emphatically did not wish to be disliked, and it was a complete surprise to her that she had not been a successful Carey chicken.

“Gladys Ferguson always loved me,” she expostulated after a brief silence, and there was a quiver in her voice.

“Then either Gladys has a remarkable gift of loving, or else you are a different Julia in her company,” remarked Mother Carey, quietly, raising Julia’s astonishment and perturbation to an immeasurable height.

“Now, Kathleen,” continued Mother Carey, “Mrs. Godfrey has often asked you to spend a week with Elsie, and you can go to Charlestown on the afternoon train.  Go away from Julia and forget everything but that you have done wrong and you must find a way to repair it.  I hope Julia will learn while you are away to make it easier for you to be courteous and amiable.  There is a good deal in the Bible, Julia, about the sin of causing your brother to offend.  Between that sin and Kathleen’s offence, there is little, in my mind, to choose!”