“I have something to say to you, Mark,” she said; “I had to tell Miss Davis that we played the trick.”

“You had to tell her!” said Mark scornfully; “well, if ever I trust a tell-tale of a girl again.  You are just as sneaky as Nell after all.”

“Nell is not sneaky; and you ought not to call me a tell-tale.  You ran away and left me with all Miss Davis’s trouble on my shoulders.  I didn’t want to tell; but it was better than having her suffer so dreadfully.”

“Oh, very well.  You can make a friend of her.  Go away and sit up prim like Phyllis.  You shall have no more fun with me, I can tell you.”

A lump came in Hetty’s throat.  She knew Mark was in the wrong, and was very unkind besides; but still he had so often been good to her that she could not bear to quarrel with him.

“I am very sorry,” she said; “but I don’t think you need be afraid that Miss Davis will complain to anyone about us.”

This made Mark more angry; for he did not like to hear the word “afraid” applied to himself; and yet his chief uneasiness had been lest the occurrence of last evening should come to the ears of his father, who had a great dislike for practical jokes.

“Afraid?  I am not afraid of anything, you little duffer.  She can tell all about it to the whole house if she likes,” he said, and turning on his heel went off whistling.

Hetty was right in the guess she had made regarding Miss Davis, who did not say a word to anyone about the trick that had been played on her.  She was too thankful to know that she had suffered from a false alarm, that her beloved brother was safe under the protection of the uncle who had promised to befriend him, and that her dear mother was spared the terrible anxiety that had seemed to have overtaken her; she was much too glad thinking of all this to feel disposed to be angry with anyone.  Besides, this accident had brought to light a side of Hetty’s character which she had hardly got a glimpse of before.  The child had evinced a warmth of feeling towards herself which neither of her other two pupils had ever shown her, and this in forgetfulness of the somewhat hard demeanour with which she had been hitherto treated.  The little girl was, it appeared, capable of knowing that certain things she did not like were yet for her good, and of respecting the persons who were to her rather a stern providence.  Her extreme sorrow for giving pain was also to be noted, and the fact that she had realized the work that was before her in life.  All these things sank deeply into Miss Davis’s mind, and made her feel far more interested in Hetty than she had ever felt before.

But Hetty did not know anything of all this.  She saw Miss Davis precise and cold-looking as ever, going through the day’s routine as if the events of that memorable evening had never happened; and she thought that everything was just as it had been before, except that Mark had quarrelled with her and would scarcely speak to her.  She felt this a heavy trial, and but for occasional visits to Mrs. Kane and Scamp would have found it harder than she could bear.