casual observers to believe that these two friends were ever anything but perfectly amiable. The wilfulness of young girls, however, and their little faults are, fortunately, seldom more than skin deep; and if the girls themselves would only be willing, sometimes, to see themselves as others see them, many of these faults could be entirely weeded out before striking root.
As Brenda and Nora jumped from the carriage, Edith, in a rather elaborately-made dark muslin gown, came rushing down from the steps. “I hope that you don’t think me too mean for not waiting at the station, but, truly, I had no idea that you were coming. I never thought of asking if the train was late. Was it much of an accident?”
“Oh, yes. Was any one hurt?” asked Belle, though her tone was not one of extreme anxiety.
So Nora and Brenda for a few minutes had all they could do to describe, adequately, their sensations, when they heard the ominous whistle, their alarm when they learned that some one had been run over, and their relief when they found that the whole thing had amounted to so much less than they had feared.
“I think that Angelina was rather disappointed that it was no worse,” said Nora.
“Angelina!” exclaimed Belle; “what was she doing there?”
“Oh, I forgot that we had n’t told you. She was an important part of the affair,” and Brenda, with a few lively touches that made the others laugh, described Angelina’s appearance on the scene.
