CHAPTER XIV.

HETTY’S CONSTANCY.

“I hope Hetty is getting on better in the school-room now,” said Mrs. Enderby to Phyllis one day; “I have not heard any complaints for some time.”

“I think she is doing pretty well, mother; at least she behaves better to Miss Davis.  As for me, I have very little to do with her.  I notice, however, that she has quarrelled with Mark.  He and she used to be great friends, because she is such a romp and ready for any rough play.  But now he does not speak to her.”

“That does not matter much,” said Mrs. Enderby smiling; “she will be better with Miss Davis and you.  You must continue to take an interest in the poor child, dear Phyllis.  I wish she gave as little trouble as you do.”

Phyllis was one of those girls for whom mothers ought to be more uneasy than for the wilder and naughtier children who cause them perpetual annoyance.  She was so proper in all her ways, and so well-behaved as never to seem in fault.  Her reasons for everything she said and did were so ready and so plausible, that it required a rather clever and far-seeing person to detect the deep-rooted pride and self-complacency that lay beneath them.  To manage all things quietly her own way, to be accounted wise and good, and greatly superior to ordinary girls of her age, was as the breath of life to Phyllis.  To have to stand morally or actually in the corner with other naughty children was a humiliation she had unfortunately never experienced, but was one which would have done her a world of good.  All those early storms of remorse, repentance, compunction, which do so much to prepare the ground for a growth of virtue in children’s hearts, were an unknown experience to her.  She believed in herself, and she expected others, young and old, to believe in her.  Such characters, if not discovered and humbled in time, are likely to have a terrible future, and to grow up the unconscious enemies of their own happiness and that of the people who live around them.

Mark kept up his indignation towards Hetty for a week.  He did not grieve over the quarrel as she did, but he missed her sadly in his games.  However, an accident soon occurred which made them friends again.

Mark had had a piece of land given to him in a retired part of the grounds, and he was full of the project of making a garden of his own, according to his own particular fancy.  His father was pleased to allow him to do this, being glad of anything that would occupy the restless lad while at home for his holidays.

“I will draw all the beds geometrically myself,” said Mark, “and make it quite different from anything you have ever seen.  And then I will build a tea-house all of fir, and line it with cones, and it will have a delightful perfume.”

Then he said to himself that if Hetty had not turned out so badly he would have asked her to make tea very often in his nice house among his flowers.  But, of course, he could not ask a tell-tale duffer of a girl to do anything for him.