"Why, that we have got our old Annie back again; that she did take the girls out to that picnic, and was as wild, and reckless, and naughty as possible about it; and then, just like the old Annie I have always known, the moment the fun was over she began to repent, and that she has gone on repenting ever since, which has accounted for her poor sad little face and white cheeks. Of course she longed to tell--Nora and Phyllis have told me so--but she would not betray them. Now at last there is a load off her heart, and, though she is in great disgrace and punishment, she is not very unhappy. I went to see her an hour ago, and I saw in her face that my own darling Annie has returned. But what do you think Mrs. Willis does, Hester? She is so hurt and disappointed, that she believes Annie is guilty of the other thing--she believes that Annie stole Dora's theme, and that she caricatured her in my book some time ago. She believes it--she is sure of it. Now, do you think, Hester, that Annie's face would look quite peaceful and happy to-night if she had only confessed half her faults--if she had this meanness, this sin, these lies still resting on her soul? Oh! I wish Mrs. Willis would see her! I wish--I wish! but I can do nothing. You agree with me, don't you, Hester? Just put yourself in Annie's place, and tell me if _you_ would feel happy, and if your heart would be at rest, if you had only confessed half your sin, and if through you all your schoolfellows were under disgrace and suspicion? You could not, could you, Hester? Why, Hester, how white you are!"