"
Kathleen ran up to her room, and again she locked the door. She heard
Alice's step, and she felt a certain vindictiveness as she turned the
key in the lock. Alice presently took the handle of the door and shook
it.
"Let me in at once, Kathleen," she said. "I really can't put up with
this sort of thing any longer. I want to get into my room; I want to
tidy myself. I am going to supper to-night with Cassandra Weldon."
"Then you don't get in," whispered Kathleen to herself. Aloud she said:
"I am sorry, darling, but I am specially busy, and I really must have my
share of the room to myself."
"Do open the door, Kathleen," now almost pleaded poor Alice. "If you
want your share of the room, I want mine. Don't you understand?"
"I am not interfering, dearest," called back Kathleen, "and I am keeping
religiously to my own half. I have the straight window, and you have the
bay. I am not touching your beautiful half; I am only in mine."
"Let me in," called Alice again, "and don't be silly."
"Sorry, dear; don't think I am silly."
There was a silence. Alice went on her knees and peered through the
keyhole: Kathleen was seated by her dressing-table, and there was a
sound of the furious scratching of a pen quite audible. "This is
intolerable," thought Alice. "She is the most awful girl I ever heard
of. I shall be late. Mary Addersley and Rhoda Pierpont are to call for
me shortly, and I shan't be ready.
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