Kitty was sober.

"Tip," she said presently, "don't you never get real awful _mad_, so mad that you feel as if you'd choke if you couldn't speak right out at somebody ?" "Well, no," said Tip, "not often.

Yes, I do too; I get mad at Bob Turner sometimes, mad enough to pitch him into a snow-bank; but it don't last long." "Well, mine does," said Kitty.

"I begin in the morning; something makes me cross, and I keep on getting crosser and crosser every minute, till it seems as if I should fly.

Do you suppose I'll always do just so ?" "No," answered Tip positively, "I _don't_.