And she walked away, leaving Hetty sitting alone reflecting sadly on her words.  So after all it was not kindness and liking for her that had made these people include her in their invitation.  It was only the desire to have their party made more amusing by her performance.  She wished she could do what was required of her, so that she need owe them nothing.  But she could not; and how hateful she must seem.

All her pleasure was over now, and she was glad when the moment came to get away.  Her silence was not noticed during the drive home, for every one else was too sleepy to talk.  But Hetty was too unhappy to be sleepy.

The next morning Miss Davis asked at breakfast if the party had been enjoyable.

“It was all very nice,” said Phyllis, “until towards the end, when Hetty put on fine airs and refused to be obliging.  After that we all felt uncomfortable.”

“That is not true, Miss Davis,” said Hetty bluntly.

Her temper had suddenly got the better of her.

Phyllis’s blue eyes contracted, and her lip curled.

“Please send her out of the room, Miss Davis,” she said.

“Hetty, I am sorry for this,” said Miss Davis, “I could not have believed you would speak so rudely.”

“You have not heard the story, Miss Davis.”

“I have heard you put yourself very much in the wrong.  Phyllis would not tell an untruth of you, I am sure.”

“She said I put on fine airs,” said Hetty, trembling with indignation.  “I did not put on airs.  They wanted me to perform, and I could not do it.  If I had done it Phyllis would have been the first to blame me.  I remember how she scorned me for doing it long ago.”

“I hope you will make her apologize to me, Miss Davis,” said Phyllis quietly.  The more excited poor Hetty became, the quieter grew the other girl.

“She is ungenerous,” continued Hetty, striving valiantly to keep back her tears; “she knew her mother would not approve of my performing; and besides, I told her I was afraid.  If I had done it she would have complained to Mrs. Enderby of my doing it.”

This passionate accusation hit Phyllis home.  She knew it was true—­so true that though she had arraigned Hetty before Miss Davis for the pleasure of humbling her, she yet had no intention of carrying the tale to her mother, fearing that Mrs. Enderby would say that Hetty had been right.  Had Hetty made “a show of herself” by performing, Phyllis would perhaps have made a grievance of it to her parents.  Stung for a moment with the consciousness that this was true, before she had had time to persuade herself of the contrary, Phyllis grew white with anger.  The injury she could least forgive was a hurt to her self-complacency.

“She must apologize, Miss Davis, or I will go to papa,” said Phyllis, disdaining to glance at Hetty, but looking at her governess.

Miss Davis was troubled.

“This is all very painful,” she said.  “Hetty, you had better go to your room till you have recovered your composure.  Whatever may have been your motives last night you have now put yourself in the wrong by speaking so rudely.”