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 "What's the matter?" I asked again, feeling cross. Bess never cries.

She swallowed hard. "I can't do it, Chet," she said.

"Can't do what?"

"Snub her."

"Well, for goodness' sake, Bess!" I said; "what changed you so quick? 'Two seconds ago you were figuring how you could do it, and now—What struck you?"

"You said 'good, said Bess, very low.

"Well," I said, "it is a good plan. What's the matter with it?"

"It isn't good," said Bess. "It's everything but good. It's selfish and mean and unkind,—and we haven't any right to do it."

"Well, she hasn't any right to come here."

"She can't help it."

They were the very words I had used five minutes before; but it was different when she said them, and my temper was up in a second.

"All right," I said; "take her part if you want to,—I don't care,—only you needn't expect me to be traipsing around with you two all the time. There's lots of boys in town.