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HE next morning, right after breakfast, I went out to the sweet-apple tree and whistled until Bess came out. She came running down the board-walk, her braids flying and her arms waving wildly, and I knew right off that there was something in the wind. As soon as she was within shouting distance, she began,—

"Oh, Chet, Chet, what do you think? I'm going to take a trip with Father, and I'm going to Chicago, and Indianapolis, and everywhere! Oh, I'm so glad, I'm so glad!"

I wasn't!

Bess saw in a minute, how I felt, and a good deal of the shine went out of her face. She dropped down onto the grass and sat smoothing her dress over her knees and pursing her lips.

"It is kind of mean, isn't it," she said, a lot of change in her voice. "I'm just as selfish as I can be—not to think of anybody but ME! But, Chet," and she looked up at me, part of the light coming back into her eyes; "it's going to be awfully nice; for you know how much I've always wanted