Annabel looked bewildered, then burst into tears.
"Oh, stop that!" said Mr. Stanton cheerfully. "I'm not scolding. I just wanted to make you see. What are you crying for?"
"I'm afraid you won't like me any more," sobbed Annabel, drying her eyes in the cheese-cloth duster.
"Yes I shall. I like you very much. You are the nicest little girl I know. But I want to be able to depend on what you say. Did you think that I believed your yarns?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I didn't. You are just as transparent as glass."
"I can't help it," wailed Annabel. "I'm just sick of living. I don't have any pleasures. I wash my little brother every day, and scrub my steps, and work from morning till night. When I go out I see the same wagons standing in front of the same houses every day. My life is perfect misery."
