out of my light, Cecilia, for you are trampling upon all my strawberries.”  “I have not touched one, you covetous little creature!” “Indeed—­indeed, Cecilia, I am not covetous.  I have not eaten one of them—­they are all for your friend Leonora.  See how unjust you are.”  “Unjust! that’s a cant word you learned of my friend Leonora, as you call her, but she is not my friend now.”  “Not your friend now!” exclaimed Louisa.  “Then I am sure you must have done something very naughty.”  “How!” said Cecilia, catching hold of her.  “Let me go—­Let me go!” cried Louisa, struggling.  “I won’t give you one of my strawberries, for I don’t like you at all.”  “You don’t, don’t you?” said Cecilia, provoked; and catching the hat from Louisa, she flung the strawberries over the hedge.  “Will nobody help me!” exclaimed Louisa, snatching her hat again, and running away with all her force.

“What have I done?” said Cecilia, recollecting herself.  “Louisa!  Louisa!” She called very loud, but Louisa would not turn back! she was running to her companions.

They were still dancing, hand in hand, upon the grass, whilst Leonora, sitting in the middle, sang to them.

“Stop! stop! and hear me!” cried Louisa, breaking through them; and rushing up to Leonora, she threw her hat at her feet, and panting for breath——­

“It was full—­almost full of my own strawberries,” said she, “the first I ever got out of my own garden.  They should all have been for you, Leonora, but now I have not one left.  They are all gone!” said she; and she hid her face in Leonora’s lap.

“Gone! gone where?” said every one at once, running up to her.  “Cecilia!  Cecilia!” said she, sobbing.  “Cecilia!” repeated Leonora; “what of Cecilia?” “Yes, it was—­it was.”

“Come along with me,” said Leonora, unwilling to have her friend exposed; “come, and I will get you some more strawberries.”  “Oh, I don’t mind the strawberries, indeed; but I wanted to have had the pleasure of giving them to you.”

Leonora took her up in her arms to carry her away, but it was too late.

“What, Cecilia!  Cecilia, who won the prize!  It could not surely be Cecilia,” whispered every busy tongue.

At this instant the bell summoned them in.

“There she is!—­There she is!” cried they, pointing to an arbour, where Cecilia was standing, ashamed and alone; and as they passed her, some lifted up their hands and eyes with astonishment, others whispered and huddled mysteriously together, as if to avoid her.  Leonora walked on, her head a little higher than usual.

“Leonora!” said Cecilia, timorously, as she passed.

“Oh, Cecilia! who would have thought that you had a bad heart?”

Cecilia turned her head aside and burst into tears.

“Oh no, indeed, she has not a bad heart,” cried Louisa, running up to her, and throwing her arms round her neck; “she’s very sorry!—­are not you, Cecilia?  But don’t cry any more, for I forgive you with all my heart; and I love you now, though I said I did not when I was in a passion.”