Phyllis did not like the implied rebuke, and at once began to hope that she might be able to prove Miss Davis in the wrong.  If Hetty could be found to have a secret, as Nell supposed, Phyllis decided that it ought to be found out.  Her mother did not approve of children having secrets.  Even if there was no harm in a thing in itself, there was a certain harm in making a mystery of it.  So, having arranged her motive satisfactorily in her mind, Phyllis, feeling more virtuous than ever, resolved to observe what Hetty was about.  The next morning she got up early and came down to the school-room an hour before her usual time.  And there was Hetty working away at her drawing with a wreath of flowers pinned before her on the wall.

Phyllis came behind her and was astonished to see what she had accomplished with her pencil; and Hetty started and coloured up to her hair, as if she had been caught in a fault.

“Well, you are a strange girl,” said Phyllis; “I did not know drawing was a sin, that you should make such a mystery over it.”

“I hope it is not a sin,” said Hetty in a low voice.  She felt grieved at having her efforts discovered in this way.  She wished now that she had told Miss Davis all about it.  Phyllis opened the piano and began to practise without having said one word of praise of Hetty’s work; and the poor little artist felt her heart sink like lead.  Perhaps the beauty that she saw in her designs existed only in her own foolish eyes.

She worked on silently for about half an hour, and then put away her drawing materials and her flowers, and began to study her lessons for the day.

“Of course you do not expect me to keep your secret from Miss Davis,” said Phyllis, looking over her shoulder.  “I have been always taught to hate secrets, and my conscience will not allow me to encourage you in this.”

“Do exactly as you please,” said Hetty; “I shall be quite satisfied to let Miss Davis know what I have been doing.”

“Then why did you not tell her before?” asked Phyllis.

“I am not bound to explain that to you,” said Hetty; but finding her temper was rising she added more gently, “I am willing to give an account of my conduct to any one who may be scandalized by it”; and then, fearing to trust herself further, she went out of the room.

On the stairs she met Miss Davis, and stopped her, saying: 

“Phyllis has a complaint to make of me.  I shall be back in the school-room presently after she has made it.”

“What is it about, my dear?”

“She can tell you better than I can,” said Hetty.  “Please go down now, Miss Davis, and then we can have it over before breakfast.”

“Miss Davis, I find Nell was right in thinking that Hetty was doing something sly,” began Phyllis, as the governess entered the school-room.

“I am sorry to hear it.  What can it be?”

“Nothing very dreadful in itself perhaps.  It is the secrecy that is so ugly, especially as there was no reason for it in the world.”