At recess, after the other girls had left the schoolroom, Miss Patten came to Sylvia’s desk and sat down beside her.

“Sylvia, dear,” she said gently, “I want you to tell me why you started off alone yesterday.  Had anything happened here at school to make you so unhappy that you did not want to stay?”

Sylvia looked up in surprise.  Why, Miss Patten seemed to know all about it, she thought.  How easy it would be to tell her the whole story.  But suddenly she resolved that no matter what Miss Patten knew, she, Sylvia, must not break her word.  So she looked down at her desk, and made no reply.

“I am sure none of the other pupils would mean to hurt your feelings, Sylvia.  But if any of them have carelessly said something that sounded unkind, I know they will apologize,” continued the friendly voice; and again Sylvia looked up.  If she told what Elinor and May had said she was now sure that Miss Rosalie would make them both say they were sorry; and Sylvia remembered that she had declared to them that they should do exactly that.

“Would they really, Miss Patten?” she asked in so serious a voice that the teacher believed for the moment that she would soon know the exact reason why Sylvia had fled from the school; and she was right, she was about to hear it, but not from Sylvia.  There was a little silence in the quiet pleasant room where the scent of jessamine and honey-suckle came through the open windows, and no sound disturbed the two at Sylvia’s desk.  Sylvia was assuring herself that she really ought to tell Miss Patten; but somehow she could not speak.  If she broke a promise, even to an enemy, as she felt Elinor Mayhew to be, she would despise herself.  But Elinor would have to apologize for the way she had treated Sylvia.  Just at this moment of hesitation a round woolly head appeared at one of the open windows.  Two small black hands rested on the window-sill, and a moment later Estralla, in her faded blue dress, was standing directly in front of Miss Patten and Sylvia.

“I begs pardon, Missy Teacher.  But I knows my missy ain’t done nuffin’ to be kept shut up for.  An’ I knows why she runned off yesterd’y.  Yas’m.  I heered dat tall dark girl an’ nuther girl sayin’ as how Missy Sylvia was a Yankee.  Yas’m; and as how they was glad they called her names.  Yas’m, I sho’ heered ’em say those very words,” and Estralla bobbed her head, and stood trembling in every limb before “Missy Teacher,” not knowing what would happen to her, but determined that the little white girl, who had protected her, and given her the fine pink dress, should not he punished.

“Oh, Estralla!” whispered Sylvia, her face brightening.

Miss Rosalie stood up, and rested her hand on Sylvia’s shoulder.

“And so you would not tell, or complain about your schoolmates?” Then without waiting for a reply, she leaned over and kissed Sylvia.  “That is right, dear child.  I am proud to have you as a pupil.  Now,” and she turned to Estralla, “you run home as fast as you can go.  Your young mistress is not being punished, and will not be.  But you did just right in coming to tell me.  But the next time you come remember to come in at the door!” and Miss Rosalie smiled pleasantly at the little darky, whose face now was radiant with delight.