kerchief held tightly in her hand, clung to Katy every moment, crying, and declaring that she would not let her go. The last evening she followed her into No. 2 (where she was dreadfully in the way of the packing), and after various odd contortions and mysterious, half-spoken sentences, said:—
"Say, won't you tell if I tell you something?"
"What is it?" asked Katy, absently, as she folded and smoothed her best gown.
"Something," repeated Bella, wagging her head mysteriously, and looking more like a thievish squirrel than ever.
"Well, what is it? Tell me."
To Katy's surprise, Bella burst into a violent fit of crying.
"I'm real sorry I did it," she sobbed,—"real sorry! And now you'll never love me any more."
"Yes, I will. What is it? Do stop crying, Bella dear, and tell me," said Katy, alarmed at the violence of the sobs.
"It was for fun, really and truly it was. But I wanted some cake too," —protested Bella, sniffing very hard.
"What!"
