I meditated on other people's sins.

_I_ didn't have any to meditate on.

Was it a sin, pray, for me to stand up for my mother and refuse to associate with people who wouldn't associate with _me_ on account of _her_?
I guess not! I meditated on Stella Mayhew and her mother, and on those silly, faithless girls that thought more of an ice-cream soda than they did of justice and right to their fellow schoolmate.

And I meditated on Aunt Jane and her never giving me so much as a single kiss since I came.

And I meditated on how much better Father liked stars and comets than he did his own daughter; and I meditated on what a cruel, heartless world this is, anyway, and what a pity it was that I, so fair and young, should have found it out so soon--right on the bank, as it were, or where that brook and river meet.