Claribel

"Oh, well, just as you please," said Rebecca, sulkily. "Only I don't see why you can't do as much for me as for Fanny Morey. I don't make fun of your crutch and your high shoulders, and call you old Dame Crump."

"Neither does Fanny."

"Oh no, of course not. Did I say she did? I only said I didn't. Well, good-bye; I am sure I am much obliged to you for your kindness."

Never since the scene about Bab had Claribel been nearer to a screaming fit than she was at that moment. A lump rose in her throat, and it seemed as if her heart swelled to bursting. Fanny would be up directly, she knew, and she could not meet her. She snatched her hat; and rushing down stairs and up the garden walk to a secluded spot among the trees, she threw herself down on the ground and gave way to a tempest of mingled grief and indignation:

"So this is what comes of trying to help other people—of putting aside my own taste and my own convenience! This is what comes of trusting to a friend! Fanny said that I wrote her composition for her, and made fun of my crutch and my deformity. There is no use in trying to do anything or be anybody. People are all unkind and selfish and treacherous alike, and I dislike them all!"

But poor Claribel was not long left to her dangerous mood. A new spirit was stirring in her, and presently began to make itself heard above the storm. She had been studying the life of her Lord and praying to be like him, and that prayer is one which never goes unanswered. Suppose Fanny had laughed at and misrepresented her? Could she not forgive her and go on helping her just the same? He had done so toward her. She had treated him with neglect and ingratitude all her life. To what sin had she ever been tempted that she had not committed? And yet he had never forsaken her, never tired of doing her good, and he had led her into this home where she had so many comforts and so much that was pleasant.

Claribel covered her face and hushed her sobs as like a great flood. It rushed over her soul for the first time—the wonderful love of God for her, for all mankind. The love of God was shed abroad in her heart by his Spirit which he had given her, and all tumult and discord was hushed in its presence. It was hardly any longer a question of forgiving Fanny. She was ashamed to think of it, after all that had been done for her.

As Claribel sat quietly looking out through the trees upon the lake, she heard a step. And before she could rise, Fanny, with her face all bathed in tears, came running up the path and threw herself down beside her, hiding her head on her lap. She sobbed so violently that at first she could not speak, but presently she found her voice, and exclaimed,—

"Oh, Claribel, you didn't say I was a mean, deceitful girl, and that you never would help me any more as long as you lived, did you? You never said you wrote all my compositions for me, and I never should have any lessons only for you?"

"No, of course not," answered Claribel; "I never said such a word. Who told you so?"

"Rebecca," sobbed Fanny; "she said—"

But Fanny could get no farther, and laid down her head in a fresh burst of crying.

"There, there I don't cry so. You will make yourself sick," said Claribel, forgetting her own distress in Fanny's. "Rebecca isn't worth minding. She told me ever so many things about you, and I dare say they are just as true as the other. She said you said I helped you with your lessons and wrote all your compositions for you, and that you laughed at my crutch and my high shoulders, and made fun of me every way, and I was just silly enough to believe it."

"It was no such thing!" said Fanny, vehemently. "I did say you helped me about my lessons, and so you have, because you always will make me learn them and won't leave me any peace till I do. And I do think I have written better since I have begun to read books with some sense in them, and I never should, only to please you."

"I wonder whether the other girls think so?" said Claribel. "There go Percy and Eva; I mean to ask them."

And Claribel called the two girls and told them the story.

The girls looked at each other.

"Well, Claribel, I shouldn't wonder if some of them did think so, because Fanny has improved so much," said Eva. "But, dear me! Thee needn't mind a bit if they do."

"But I do mind," said Claribel; "I mind very much. Mr. Hausen made me promise to help everybody I could, and I am sure I like to do it, but there is not much comfort in it if one is to be accused of such things."

"Oh, Claribel," said Percy, "you mustn't think that. Dear me! If you are going to leave off helping people every time anybody accuses you of doing wrong! You ought to hear how they talk about my aunt. She just runs after poor people all day long. She fixed up a room in the widows' home for old Mrs. Stokes, and fitted her all up with nice clothes, and the old woman told everybody that my aunt spent all her money for her ownself, and gave her nothing but old rags. And she hadn't a single cent of her own, only five dollars that aunt laid out in a shawl which the old woman wanted."

"And did your aunt do anything for her after that?"

"Oh yes; she said it was only Mrs. Stokes. And people are always saying that the ladies who work for the asylums and for missionaries, and so on, do it just to make a figure and have people talk about them. There is no use in caring."

"Well, anyway, it was mean in Rebecca to tell such stories," said Fanny. "See if I don't give her a piece of my mind the next time I see her!"

"Now, Fanny, if thee will be advised, thee will keep thy mind to thyself," said Eva. "It won't do any good. If thee says ever so much to Rebecca, she won't care, and she will contrive to get out of it. She will say that if Claribel didn't say so in words, she gave her that impression."

"Yes, we all know about Becky's impressions," said Percy. "But it was rather cool than otherwise to ask Claribel out and out to write her composition for her."

"Well, anyhow, I think it is mean in the girls to suppose I would do such a thing as to steal mine," said Fanny.

"So it is, and I don't wonder thee feels it; but I wouldn't let it make me unhappy," said Eva. "Just keep on doing thy best, and it will all come out right. And whatever thee does, Claribel, don't leave off trying to help people. Thee knows," added Eva, in a low voice—"thee knows who it was that went about doing good and healing all the sick folks, though his own friends didn't believe on him and his countrymen said he was helped by the prince of the devils."

"Yes, but we can't be like him," said Fanny.

"It is certainly our duty to try to be like him," answered Claribel.

CHAPTER VI.

PRISCILLA.

EVA was right about Rebecca. When Fanny attacked her on the subject, which she did in presence of several of the girls, Rebecca drew back and qualified, and didn't "exactly mean to say that Fanny really said so in so many words, but she certainly got the idea from what she said; and then, when Claribel first came, Fanny certainly had said that Claribel walked with a crutch and had high shoulders."

"And what if I did?" demanded Fanny. "I wasn't making fun of them. The girls asked me how Claribel looked, and I told them, and that was all."

"Becky's stories are like the prince's mantle in the fairy tale," said Tilly. "She gets a little bit of foundation, and then she stretches it and stretches it till it is as large as a bedquilt. Never mind, Fanny; what is the use of caring?"

But Fanny did care, and in one way the caring did her a great deal of good. She was bent upon showing that her compositions and exercises were her own, and she worked harder than ever before in her life, and read such an amount of sensible books that it was quite alarming.

One day Mr. Hausen found her and Claribel engaged with a volume of Hallam's "Middle Ages."

"Do you like that book?" he asked.

Fanny looked rather dolefully at Claribel, as if to ask her to reply.

"Well, it is a very big book," said Claribel, "and it isn't so interesting as some, but Doctor Burton said the other day that Hallam was one of the best historical authors; and then it tells about the Crusades."

"And there are some nice stories in it," added Fanny. "I like that about Charlemagne and his learning to write when he was old."

"Don't you think it is a good book for us?" asked Claribel. "Don't you think we ought to finish it?"

"Finish it, by all means, if you can, but don't feel obliged to do so," answered Mr. Hausen. "Hallam is a large undertaking for two such chickens as you and Fanny."

"It is all Claribel's doing," said Fanny. "She is so very sensible, and I want to be like her, and Miss Reynolds says I never shall be, so long as I don't read anything except little story-books. And besides," added Fanny, "one of the girls said we never should finish it if we began, and so we are bound to go through with it."

"I am afraid your motives are rather mixed, Fanny," said Mr. Hausen, laughing. "But never mind. Go on with Hallam, by all means; and if you finish it, you will certainly show that you have the power of perseverance."

Contrary to Mr. Hausen's expectations, the girls did finish Hallam, though I cannot say that the learned author left any very strong impression on their minds, beyond a general feeling that the Middle Ages were not nice times and they were glad they did not live in them.

At this time, Claribel and Fanny roomed together; and though Fanny thought Claribel needlessly particular when she objected to accumulations of shoes and stockings under the bed, and insisted that the study-table was not the place for the brushes and combs, and though Claribel sometimes laughed and sometimes scolded a little, yet the two friends got on together very comfortably and harmoniously.

One day Claribel received a letter from home at which she uttered an exclamation of dismay.

"What is the matter?" asked Fanny, looking up from her own budget of news. "Anything wrong?"

"Well, no—at least I ought not to think so. I suppose I am a sinner not to be glad, but I can't be, the least in the world."

"Can't be glad of what?"

"That my cousin Priscilla is coming here to school."

"Don't you like her?"

Claribel hesitated a moment before replying to Fanny's question:

"Well, no, to tell you the truth, I don't. We were brought up together till I came here, but we never agreed very well—in fact, we used to quarrel every day. I dare say it was as much my fault as hers, though I do think it wasn't, any more."

"And I suppose you will room together, and I shall have to turn out," said Fanny.

"No, indeed, not if I can help it," answered Claribel, with energy. "I would rather have you, a thousand times. Oh dear! I do hope I sha'n't have to room with Priscilla."

"Well, we won't borrow trouble," said Fanny; "I dare say Mrs. Richardson will give her your old room just at first. They almost always do put the new scholars in there, you know."

It turned out that Fanny was right. There had been some consultation between Mrs. Richardson and Mrs. Herman, the housekeeper, about what arrangement was to be made. Mrs. Herman supposed the cousins would naturally like to be together.

"It is a pity to alter the present arrangement, too," she added. "Fanny is getting a great deal of good out of it."

"I think we won't make any change—at least for the present," said Mrs. Richardson. "As you say, Fanny is gaining a great deal, and I think she does quite as much for her room-mate, though in another way. The new-comer can just as well have the little room and live alone till we can observe her a little."

Claribel went down to the boat to meet her cousin, and welcomed her with all due cordiality. She had schooled herself to do so, and really succeeded in being glad to see Priscilla. But Priscilla felt and saw that there was a change in Claribel, and decided at once in her own mind that Claribel was proud and felt above her, and that she, Priscilla Westcott, was not going to be put down or patronized, either, if she wasn't an heiress. She had not been in the house ten minutes before she succeeded in showing Claribel that she had brought some of the old home atmosphere with her.

"What a miserable little stuck-up room!" she observed as Claribel introduced her to "21," which she and Fanny had taken great pains to make pleasant and attractive looking. "And what a little narrow bed! I thought you said the rooms were so wonderfully nice?"

"Well, I think they are nice, though they are plain, of course," said Claribel, feeling annoyed, but determined not to show it. "The bed is wide enough for one, I am sure, and here is a nice bureau and writing-table, you see, and a large closet. I thought this was a dear little room when I had it."

"Where do you room now?" asked Priscilla.

"Over there where you see that window open and the cat sitting in it," answered Claribel, pointing to her own window, where Bab was dozing in the sun, for he had always remained constant to his allegiance to Claribel. "Fanny and I wanted to live together, so Mrs. Richardson gave us that room, though new-comers are usually put in this one. There is another inside of it where little Madge sleeps, now that Miss Emerson is away. Generally, we have it for a closet."

"And how do you get on in school?" asked Priscilla, presently. "I suppose the rules are very strict?"

"Oh no; there are not many rules. We can't go out in the street without asking, and we have to go to bed and get up at just such times, and to observe the hour of silence, and keep our clothes mended and our rooms nice. Those are all the rules I can think of—only, of course, we have to learn our lessons and do as we are told."

"And do the girls dress much? I have got ten new dresses," said Priscilla, in a tone of exultation. "I told ma she must let me have everything new, for I wasn't going to be looked down on or despised by anybody."

"You needn't have minded about that," said Claribel. "The girls dress very plainly, and so do the teachers."

"Well, I sha'n't; I have got my new things, and I am going to wear them. They were all made at Miss Smith's, and I picked out the patterns in the fashion-book myself."

And Priscilla dived into her trunk and produced one suit after another, all in the extreme of fashion, as fashion was understood in Smithopolis.

"But haven't you any school-dress?" asked Claribel, rather alarmed. "You won't wear these dresses in school, will you?"

"Of course I shall. Why not?"

Claribel thought Priscilla would probably find out the why not for herself in a little while, and she changed the conversation by inquiring after one and another of her old acquaintances. Priscilla answered carelessly enough, and again recurred to her dresses, showing them off and expatiating on their elegance and their cost.

"And what do you study?" she asked, presently.

"History and higher arithmetic and French, besides my drawing."

"I am going to take all the extras," said Priscilla—"music and drawing and French and German, and everything. Mother said I ought to learn arithmetic and grammar, but I guess I didn't come to boarding-school all the way out here to study common school-books."

"But you can't, Priscilla," said Claribel. "Nobody is allowed to have more than three studies besides music or drawing. And you will have to study grammar, because all the classes do, except the senior. If you have music and drawing, you can only have two studies besides."

"I guess I can have what I am able to pay for," said Priscilla; "besides, I don't mean to take drawing, but oil-painting. I want some pictures to take home with me."

"But how can you paint without knowing how to draw?" asked Claribel, bewildered.

"Just as every one else does. Sarah Annie Willcox painted some splendid pictures at Galesville seminary, and she never touched a pencil nor paint, till she went there."

Claribel.
"Well, I never saw such a mean school as
this is," said Priscilla, throwing herself on the bed.

Claribel concluded that she might as well change the subject:

"Don't you mean to change your dress and brush your hair before tea? I should think you would want to after coming so far."

"Oh, I only came from The Bridge to-day. However, I suppose I might as well. What are you going to wear?"

"Just what I have on, only I must go and get an apron. I will call for you when tea is ready." And Claribel went away, feeling uncomfortable and vexed, though she hardly knew why, and leaving Priscilla more than ever convinced that Claribel looked down upon her.

The girls stared and glanced at each other when Priscilla made her appearance at the tea-table in a furiously gay plaid, flounced and stuck out and tucked up in every direction, with a gold bracelet on each wrist and a gold chain round her neck.

Claribel felt uncomfortable and a little ashamed, but she courageously made the best of the matter, thinking that Priscilla would soon learn better.

"Well, I never saw such a mean school as this is," said Priscilla one day after she had been at the school for about a week, and throwing herself down on Claribel's bed. "If I had known it was such a pokey kind of place, I am sure I never would have come."

"What's the matter?" asked Fanny Morey. "Please, Priscilla, don't lie on the bed. It is against rules unless we are sick."

"Who cares?" said Priscilla. "There is nobody here to tell of me."

"I care," said Fanny, decidedly and somewhat angrily. "I don't choose to break rules, whether I am found out or not. Besides, you had no business to come in when the card is on the door. I am busy, and I don't want to be hindered."

"Where's Claribel?"

"Down in the library looking out something in the encyclopædia."

"I suppose you and she are great friends?"

"Yes, we are," answered Fanny, in a tone, which said plainly enough, "Is that any business of yours?"

"Well, you needn't bite my head off," said Priscilla. "I am sure I am glad if the poor thing has found anybody to like her. Claribel and I never could get on together. I suppose I might have given up to her, and let her patronize me and order me about, just as you do, but it isn't any use to do that for people, if they are ever so rich. But I am glad you don't mind, because it is hard for her not to have any friends."

"Claribel has plenty of friends," said Fanny, flushing a little. "All the girls like her, and she doesn't order me about or patronize me. I don't see why you should say so."

At that moment, Claribel entered.

"I can't find anything about it, Fanny," said she; "we shall have to ask Mr. Hausen. Excuse me, Priscilla, but it is a rule that nobody must go into a room with a card on the door. You will get us and yourself into a scrape. Besides, Fanny has her exercises to do."

Priscilla smiled and glanced significantly at Fanny.

"I don't want to seem uncivil, but really you must go, Priscilla," added Claribel, seeing that her cousin did not stir. "If Miss Van Ness should come and find you—"

"Oh, come, now, don't put yourself into a rage, Claribel," said Priscilla, rising. "I am sure I have done no great harm by just coming into your room for a little while, so don't scold; please don't get up a great fuss, now."

"I wish—" Claribel began, and then she bit her lip and was silent.

Priscilla cast another significant glance at Fanny—a piece of vulgarity and bad manners to which she was much addicted—and then withdrew.

In the course of a week, Priscilla had succeeded in making Claribel thoroughly uncomfortable. She excelled in saying little provoking things which could not be noticed, and in making insinuations. She affected great fear of Claribel's temper, and made a parade of giving up to her in any little dispute they might happen to have, especially if any of the teachers were present. She made a great mystery of advising the girls, especially Fanny, never to contradict her. She never missed an opportunity of speaking slightingly of the things she knew Claribel most valued; and whenever Claribel showed any signs of irritation or annoyance, she would put on a significant and contemptuous smile.

But nothing that Priscilla said or did annoyed Claribel so much as the influence she succeeded in gaining over Fanny. The little Texan girl had been Claribel's first intimate friend, and she loved her with an intensity of which careless Fanny had very little notion. It was a real calamity to Claribel when Fanny failed in a lesson or got into disgrace for disorder or forgetfulness, and it was one of her chief objects in life to avoid such misfortunes by spurring Fanny, both by precept and example, to the accomplishment of her school duties. She had so far succeeded that Fanny herself began to be sensitive on the subject, and to find pleasure in preparing her lessons and writing her compositions. She began to care for more sensible and substantial reading than trifling little stories, and to take a real interest in hunting out information concerning the subject of her lessons.

But shortly after Priscilla's appearance, all this was changed. Fanny's lessons began to be carelessly learned, or not learned at all. She was missing whole hours from the room which the two girls occupied in common, and her excuse always was that she had been studying with Priscilla: though the fruits of her study certainly did not appear in her lessons.

One day after Fanny had made several shocking mistakes in her history recitation, and had been deficient in her French, Claribel took her to task:

"You had, plenty of time to study, and you said you had learned it in Priscilla's room."

"I did," said Fanny.

"I think you had better learn it in your own room next time, then," pursued Claribel. "Please do take more pains, Fanny. I can't bear to have you miss so."

"I don't see why you need care," said Fanny, rather sulkily; "nobody blames you for it. You are not responsible for my lessons, are you?"

"If you don't see, I don't know how I can tell you," said Claribel. "Wouldn't you feel badly if I were to miss and get scolded as Mrs. Reynolds scolded you this morning?"

"Oh, come, Claribel, don't make such a serious matter of it," said Fanny. "I will learn my lessons to-day, so you needn't be distressed on my account. I do believe you are jealous of Priscilla."

Now, Claribel knew that she was jealous of Priscilla so far as Fanny was concerned, but that did not make the accusation any easier to bear. She retorted sharply, and the scene ended in a downright quarrel. Fanny rushed away, declaring that she was not Claribel's slave and wouldn't be tyrannized over by her, if she was rich and a favourite with the teachers.

Claribel remained behind, very much hurt and very angry, and as usual in such cases the old temptations came back upon her: "What was the use of trying to do anything for anybody? What was the use of caring anything for anybody or expecting anybody to care for her? She had spoken altogether out of regard to Fanny, and now Fanny declared that she only wanted to tyrannize. It was very hard to bear!"

But by degrees, as she grew calmer, she began to feel more reasonably and kindly. Perhaps she had been domineering. Anyhow, she had spoken unkindly to Fanny; and even if Fanny had been the most to blame, it was her duty to beg pardon and try to make up friends. Acting on this conviction, she washed away as well as she could the traces of her tears, and went out to seek Fanny, whom she found, as she expected, in Priscilla's room.

"Please to come out here a minute, Fanny," said she. "I want to speak to you."

"Why can't you just as well speak here?" said Priscilla. "If it is any such tremendous mystery, I will go away."

"It is no great mystery that I know of," said Claribel, trying to preserve her calmness—"only, Fanny, I am sorry I was so cross; and if I hurt your feelings, I beg your pardon."

Before Fanny could answer, Priscilla took the reply on herself:

"Oh, come, now, Claribel, don't make a scene and a fuss! When Fanny has seen as much of you as I have, she won't mind about your cross fits. What is the use of your putting on such a tragedy air, as if it was anything uncommon? We all know what you are, and it is a pity if we can't make allowances. If only you wouldn't set up for a saint!"

"Fanny, do please come here," said Claribel, imploringly, and trying hard to keep down the choking in her throat. "Priscilla, I wish you wouldn't interfere."

"Who is interfering?" said Priscilla. "I suppose I can speak in my own room."

"Won't you come, Fanny?"

But Fanny would not come, and Claribel retreated to her own room, feeling very miserable indeed. The girls did not meet again till bedtime, for Fanny kept close to Priscilla and out of Claribel's way. She did not come in till it was nearly time to put out the lights.

"You are late," said Claribel, looking up from her Bible and trying to speak just as usual. "We shall not have time for much reading, I am afraid."

"I have been reading with Priscilla," answered Fanny, and then there was a silence.

"Fanny dear, we don't want to go to bed quarrelling," said Claribel, imploringly.

"I don't want to quarrel, I am sure," said Fanny, "but I don't like to be ordered about and scolded because I happen to miss; and I don't think I am accountable to you."

"I didn't mean to scold you, I am sure," Claribel began.

But Fanny interrupted her:

"Oh, you don't mean! What difference does it make? It is all done, anyway, and what is the use of making such a fuss? There, now! Don't go and cry!"

Claribel did not cry. She was learning to restrain herself in that as in other respects.

But as she knelt down to say her prayers, she thought she had never been more unhappy in her life.

A quarrel with Priscilla was nothing strange. She had known very well that her cousin's coming would not add to her comfort, but she had never thought that Priscilla would turn Fanny against her. It was very, very hard! How could she help being angry? How could she say the Lord's Prayer while she was so? And then it occurred to her that the One who had dictated the prayer could give her that grace which should make her fit to say it.

Fanny had been asleep some time before Claribel lay down, but she waked up and said, sleepily,—

"What is the matter? Are you sick?"

"No," answered Claribel, kissing her. "There is nothing the matter, dear. There go to sleep. I am sorry I wakened you."

CHAPTER VII.

LITTLE MADGE.

CLARIBEL waked next morning with that vague sense of something disagreeable which we have all felt under similar circumstances. It was Sunday, and everything was quiet about the house. There was no hurry about rising, and Claribel lay thinking over the events of the day before. It was plain to her that nothing would be gained by saying any more about the matter, and she resolved never to allude to it again; that she would be very careful not to interfere with Fanny, but would try every means to win her back again.

Her feelings in the matter were not selfish. She felt that she could have borne the estrangement if only Priscilla were a fit friend for Fanny: but Claribel did not think this was the case. She knew that Priscilla was careless and deceitful; and—this troubled her more than anything—she knew that Priscilla was in the habit of reading very undesirable books—such books as were never allowed at Hausen school. She had reason to fear that Fanny had already been introduced to some of these books, and had spent in reading them the time that should have been bestowed on her lessons. But what could she do about it? There was little use in talking to Fanny, and less in saying anything to Priscilla. She could not tell her trouble to Mr. Hausen or Mrs. Richardson, because that would bring Fanny into disgrace. No: she must bear it all alone.

And then the question occurred to Claribel's mind, Why must she bear her trouble alone? Had not Mr. Hausen told them that there was one Friend always ready to hear and help? What was that text about being careful for nothing which one of the teachers had repeated the Sunday before?

Claribel slipped out of bed without waking Fanny; and taking her Bible to the window, by the help of her "New Testament Index," * she found the text she wanted in the last chapter of Philippians:

   "Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God which passeth all understanding shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."

* An Alphabetical Index to the New Testament, American Sunday-School Union.

Claribel knew that being careful in this instance meant being anxious and troubled. She was anxious and troubled. Then she remembered another text:

   "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."

And still another:

   "Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee."

What could she do better than to cast her burden on him—her anxiety for Fanny, as well as her own temper and wounded pride and resentment toward Priscilla? She would try it, at any rate.

Fanny was still asleep when Claribel rose from her knees. The bell would ring in a minute, and it was time they were all up. Claribel dressed herself, and then went into the small room where little Madge had slept during the absence of Miss Emerson, the teacher who had the special care of her. Miss Reynolds had usually come in to dress the child, but Miss Reynolds had not been well the day before, and it occurred to Claribel that she might as well save her the trouble.

Madge was very well contented with the change of dressing-maids, and made no objection when Claribel proposed to begin teaching her her Scripture lesson.

Madge was a quaint, thoughtful little girl of five years old. Her mother was a permanent invalid, and she had been sent to school more to give her a safe home and get her out of the way than with any expectation of her learning a great deal. She was the special charge of Miss Emerson, one of the younger teachers, but Miss Emerson had been called home by the illness of her mother, and it was doubtful whether she would be able to return. A question had consequently arisen as to what would be done with Madge, and she had been put to sleep in the little room for a night or two till it should be decided. Madge was fully alive to the dignity of having a room of her own, and felt herself quite able to take care of it.

"There, now! You can say your verses nicely," said Claribel when the lesson was finished. "Take care you don't forget them."

"And may I take the clothes off the bed and put the room in order?" asked Madge.

Claribel, pleased with her enterprise, assented, and Madge was in the midst of the operation when Miss Reynolds opened the door.

"Up and dressed already?" said she.

"Claribel dressed me," said Madge, "and she has taught me my lessons besides."

"I was up and dressed, and I thought I might as well dress Madge," said Claribel, in rather a tone of apology, for it occurred to her that Miss Reynolds might think her interfering. "I knew you were not well."

"I am sure you are very kind, and I am much obliged to you," said poor Miss Reynolds, putting her hand to her head; "and now, Claribel, as they say one good turn deserves another, if you will sit in my place and attend to the child at breakfast, I will lie down again, for my head aches very badly."

"And may I go to church with Claribel?" asked Madge.

"Yes, if Mrs. Richardson is willing and you will be good. Now, remember you are Claribel's little girl and must mind her."

It had not occurred to Claribel till she sat down to the table that in taking Miss Reynolds's place she had accepted the responsibility, not only of Madge, but also of helping the girls around her to beefsteak and potatoes.

It was too late to draw back now, however, and she made out to acquit herself of the task without splashing the gravy or dropping any of the plates. Fanny was late, and excused herself by saying that Claribel had not called her.

"You should not depend on Claribel to call you," said Mrs. Richardson.

"I did call you, Fanny, before I went to dress Madge, but perhaps you did not hear me," said Claribel after breakfast.

"You might just as well have stayed to help me as be taking care of Madge," said Fanny. "But 'new brooms sweep clean' with you."

Three or four days passed, and still matters were not right between Claribel and Fanny. Fanny still spent most of her time in Priscilla's room, and carried her books thither to learn her lessons. She missed every day; and her exercises were so carelessly written that one day Mademoiselle declared she would not accept them at all. Then Fanny cried and said she couldn't help it,—that Claribel had quarrelled with her and wouldn't help her any more, and she couldn't do them alone, and she hadn't the right dictionary, and Claribel was always using hers; and how could she do her exercises unless she had books?

"I suspect, Miss Fanny, that you have too many books, and those not of the right sort," said Mademoiselle. "If you will let novels and story-books alone, I fancy you will not suffer for lack of a dictionary."

Fanny coloured scarlet and darted an angry glance at Claribel, as if she suspected her of telling. Claribel felt sure that her own ideas on the subject were correct, but she said nothing. She thought Fanny must take her own way.

Miss Reynolds continued very unwell, and Claribel kept on with the care of little Madge, dressing her in the morning and putting her to bed at night, and seeing that she was ready for school. It was, of course, something of a task and confinement, for Madge must be in bed at eight o'clock, and Claribel was obliged to rise half an hour earlier than usual to find time for her own dressing and prayers in the morning.

"I don't exactly see what we are to do with the child," said Mrs. Richardson one day. "Miss Reynolds—whom we miss so much in many ways—is too unwell to take any more care on herself, and Miss Emerson is not coming back this year."

"Madge needs a good deal of care, too, she is such a delicate child," said Mrs. Herman. "I should very much dislike to send her home, both because there is nobody to care for her properly and because she is such a trouble to her mother. You cannot guess, by seeing her here, what a torment she is at home."

"Why not let her keep on as she is?" asked Mrs. Herman. "Claribel is very kind to her."

"She is indeed, but I feel as if it were too much to ask. Claribel is not strong; and though, as you say, she is kind to the child, she might not like to be confined all the time."

Claribel overheard this conversation as she was studying in the library, and it set her seriously to thinking. She had wanted some work to do—something by which she might show her gratitude to her heavenly Father, who had done so much for her. She had been thinking of asking leave to take a little class in Sunday-school, but now the work seemed offered ready to her hand. She could do no more for Fanny except to pray for her, for Fanny seemed to resent any offer of help about her lessons as an interference.

"And I must be doing for somebody," said Claribel to herself. "Unless I do, I shall be getting to thinking about myself just the same as ever. It will be a bother a great many times, but so is anything worth doing. Madge is fond of me, and minds me pretty well; and as to the trouble, I am sure I am better able to take it than poor Miss Reynolds. But then there is Fanny. Perhaps she won't like to have Madge in our room all the time. I must ask her."

"I don't care. Yes, if you like," was Fanny's answer when Claribel consulted her. "It is annoying not to have that room to use for a closet; but as long as she is to be there, I suppose you might as well take the care of her as to have Miss Reynolds poking in all the time."

"Claribel has always got to have somebody to patronize," was Priscilla's comment when it was generally known that Claribel had taken charge of the little girl. "I suppose she thinks Madge will be more manageable than Fanny."

"Does thee always do things from such mean motives thyself, Priscilla?" asked Eva Church.

"I don't know what you mean, Eva. I don't think I am meaner than other people."

"It is only fair to suppose that thee judges others by thyself," answered Eva.

"I didn't say there was anything mean about it," said Priscilla, as the other girls laughed; "I only said she liked somebody to patronize, and so she does. I have known Claribel all her life, and I think I can judge her better than you can. However, I don't want to say anything about her."

"Then don't," said Tilly Mansfield. "Nobody wants you should."

"It will be a great care for Claribel, but I think she likes that kind of care," remarked Percy.

"That is just what I say—she likes it," persisted Priscilla; "and I don't see any such great amount of self-sacrifice or saintship in doing what one likes. Oh yes; I know you all think I am a heathen and all that. I don't set up for a saint, but I mean to be all that I pretend to be, at any rate. I am sure I don't want to run dawn Claribel, poor girl! And I don't see why I should be accused of it. She is my own cousin, and I want her to do as well as she can."

"Nobody has accused you of it," said Tilly, "but you know very well that you never can hear Claribel praised without insinuating something against her. You always contrive to tell of something she has done at home, or to make out that she has some bad motive."

"Oh, very well; you will find out for yourselves by and by, or I am mistaken."

"I can't bear that girl!" broke out Tilly when Priscilla had gone. "I think she is just as disagreeable as she can be."

"Tilly!" said Eva.

"Well, I do. And I think she is just spoiling Fanny Morey. She isn't like the same girl she was a month ago."

"She does not do Fanny any good, that is certain," remarked Percy. "She and Fanny and Rebecca are always getting away by themselves and whispering in corners and locking themselves into their rooms, and Fanny hardly ever has a decent lesson now-a-days. You will see she will be put back at the end of the term as sure as fate."

"I know she will be in a worse scrape than that if she doesn't mind," said Tilly.

"What makes thee think so?" asked Eva.

"She and Rebecca have run away and gone down town two or three times," said Tilly. "Mrs. Griggs saw them down at Sawyer's buying candy and novels. What do you think Mrs. Richardson would say if she knew that?"

"At Sawyer's!" repeated Percy. "Oh, Tilly, I can't believe it. You know what Mr. Hausen said."

"I couldn't believe it when Mrs. Griggs told me," said Tilly, "but she described the girls exactly—Fanny's long light hair and black eyes, and Priscilla's plaid dress and hair put up over a cushion. And besides that, Mrs. Griggs watched them, and she saw them go round the back way and through our orchard, and get over the fence. They had two or three parcels of books—pamphlets, you know—and a great bag of candy."

"I almost wish Mrs. Griggs would tell Uncle Hausen," said Emma. "Not, of course, that I want the girls to get into trouble, but I think he ought to know. Just think what people will say in the village, and what a thing for the girls themselves! I heard Dr. Benedict and my grandfather talking about Sawyer's place, and they said it was a disgrace to the village and ought to be broken up. I am sure it must be all Priscilla's doing. Fanny never would have thought of such a thing."

"Fanny might not, but I am not so sure of Rebecca," said Eva. "Rebecca likes mysteries. But I am very sorry about it."

"Well, we can't do anything," said Percy. "Anyhow, I am glad Claribel has got Madge to comfort her. She is a cunning, queer little thing, and I dare say they will get on nicely together."

It seemed that Percy's prophecy was likely to be realized. Claribel found Madge tolerably docile, and Madge found Claribel very patient and indulgent, though sufficiently firm in requiring obedience. Madge had suffered from pain in the head early in her little life, and it was not considered expedient to burden her with lessons. Perhaps for this very reason she was anxious to learn to read and write, and Mrs. Richardson finally told her that if Claribel liked to teach her, she might have a reading lesson of ten minutes, twice every day.

"Do you really suppose she can learn—that is learn so as to remember—anything from reading as long as that—only ten minutes at a time?" asked Claribel.

"I think she will," answered Mrs. Richardson; "I think you will find her making very respectable progress, but then you must be thorough and insist on her working while she does work. If the experiment does not answer, you can give it up, you know."

The experiment was tried and found to answer very well. Claribel showed a remarkable "aptness to teach," and Madge was equally ready to learn. At the end of a month, the little girl could read in words of three or four letters. She was devoted to her lessons, and inconsolable if anything happened to interrupt them.

"If you are not good, I can't hear your lessons," was Claribel's severest threat. And she rarely had to put it into execution.

One day, however, it happened that Madge was decidedly naughty. She had got up in a bad humour, and everything went wrong. She cried at being dressed, behaved badly at the table, and ended by taking Claribel's gold pen and scribbling all over her exercise-book. She would not say she was sorry, and was so perverse about it that at last Claribel said:

"Very well, I see I shall not have any little scholar to-day."

Madge turned her head and said she did not care; but at lesson time, she came with her book, as usual.

"No," said Claribel; "I am very sorry: but you know I told you I should not hear your lesson because you were so naughty. I must keep my word. If you are good now, I will hear you this afternoon."

Madge went away very downcast, but presently came back triumphant.

"You needn't hear my lesson, if you don't want to, old Mother Bunch," said she, pertly. "Priscilla has heard it, and she says she will hear me whenever I like."

Claribel was very angry and very much perplexed. Here was a new instance of Priscilla's interference, and what was she to do about it? It was clearly impossible for her to manage Madge unless she could have the child to herself. She considered the matter a little, and then went to Priscilla's room. There was no card on the door, and she knocked once and again. There was no answer, but a sort of scuffling within, and presently Priscilla opened the door. Fanny and Rebecca were sitting in the room, each with a lesson-book before her, and Priscilla's desk stood open, with her exercise-book upon it.

"Priscilla," Claribel began, "I want to speak to you about Madge. I wish you would not interfere between her and me."

"What have I done?" asked Priscilla. "I only heard her her lesson."

"That is just the thing," said Claribel. "I told her I should not hear her because she was naughty, and presently she comes and tells me that you have heard her her lesson and will hear it again. I would rather you did not have anything to do with them, if you please."

"Oh, Claribel, how you do make mountains out of molehills! Madge asked me to hear her her lesson, and I did, and then she asked me to hear it again, and I said I would if I were not busy. Where was the harm in that?"

"The harm was that I did not hear her her lesson because she was naughty," said Claribel; "you must see yourself, Priscilla—"

"Well, there I don't say any more," interrupted Priscilla, affecting a soothing tone, as she saw Mrs. Richardson approaching. "I am sure I didn't mean any harm; only when I found Madge crying and feeling so unhappy, I did what I could to comfort her. I am sure I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Claribel. Please don't be angry, and don't punish Madge, for it was all my doing."

"Punish Madge!" said Mrs. Richardson. "Who is talking about punishing Madge?"

"Oh, it wasn't anything," said Priscilla; "only I found Madge crying because Claribel punished her, and I tried to comfort her, and Claribel thinks I am very much to blame."

"What was the story, Claribel?" asked Mrs. Richardson, turning to her.

Now, six months before Claribel would have flown into a rage, poured out a furious vindication of herself, and ended by a screaming fit, and this was what Priscilla calculated upon when she drew on her cousin the notice of Mrs. Richardson.

But she reckoned without her host. Claribel waited an instant to collect her ideas, and then said, composedly,—

"Madge was very naughty all the morning. She would not be dressed, and she ran out in the hot sun; so I told her I should not hear her her spelling-lesson. Then she went away, and presently came back, telling me that Priscilla had heard her lesson and had promised to hear it again, so she did not care for me. Then I came and asked Priscilla not to interfere with Madge, because I didn't see how I was to do anything with her if she did. That was all."

"You were quite right," said Mrs. Richardson; "neither Priscilla nor any one else must interfere with Madge's lessons."

"I am sure I did not mean any harm," said Priscilla.

"I don't say you did," replied Mrs. Richardson, with a keen glance at Priscilla. "I don't pretend to decide whether you meant to annoy and embarrass Claribel or only to help Madge; but whatever might be your motive, don't let the thing happen again. Fanny and Rebecca, why are you here instead of in your own rooms?"

Fanny murmured something about studying the lesson with Priscilla.

"I think you had better study in your own place, and see whether your lessons will not prosper better than they have done lately," said Mrs. Richardson. "Priscilla's room is none too large for herself. Go to your own rooms: and, Claribel, send Madge to me."

The two girls obeyed with anything but a good grace, and Fanny would hardly speak to Claribel all the morning. But for once her lessons were well learned and perfectly recited.

"There is something going very much amiss with those girls," said Miss Foster to Mrs. Richardson as they were talking over school matters. "Fanny is going down hill very decidedly. She never cares to take a book from the library now, and she seems to have no interest whatever in her lessons. She used to do remarkably well in Bible class, but now she never has her lessons properly prepared. The very expression of her face is altered."

"I am quite certain that something is wrong, and I am pretty sure that I know what that something is," said Mrs. Richardson; "but I am waiting to get the clue into my hands, and I think I shall. But if Fanny has changed in one way, Claribel has altered in another."

"Yes, indeed; I never saw such an improvement in so short a time. She is really growing pretty, and her recitations, especially her Bible lessons, are quite remarkable. And how kind she is to Madge!"

CHAPTER VIII.

YELLOW COVERS.

MADGE spent the rest of the day in Mrs. Richardson's room, and came back very penitent and humble. When Claribel put her to bed, Madge seemed very full of thought, and at last she said, throwing her arms around her friend's neck and hugging her,—

"Claribel, you will love me if I am naughty sometimes, won't you?"

"Yes," said Claribel, returning the kiss; "but, Madge, you make me very unhappy when you are naughty, just because I do love you. Besides, if you are not good and don't take pains to improve, Mrs. Richardson will perhaps think it is all my fault, and then she won't let you stay with me."

"I don't believe she will," said Madge; "she will know that it is my very own naughtiness. But I will try to be good, and I will never call you 'Mother Bunch' again if Priscilla tells me to ever so many times."

"I don't think I would, because it isn't like a Christian to call names," said Claribel; "and you know, Madge, I cannot help my looks."

"I don't want you to help them," said Madge; "I like you just as you are."

She was silent a few minutes, and Claribel thought she was asleep, and was going to leave her, when Madge put out her hand to detain her.

"Please don't go away," said she; "I am afraid."

"Oh no," said Claribel; "what are you afraid of?"

"I am afraid because I have been naughty, and because—Claribel, if Priscilla told me not to tell, ought I to tell?"

Claribel hesitated:

"Did you promise not to tell, Madge?"

"No, I didn't promise exactly: but—Claribel, why do Priscilla and Fanny read books and hide them away when anybody comes?"

"They read books to learn lessons and to amuse themselves, I suppose," said Claribel. "Everybody gets books out of the library, you know."

"These are not library books," said Madge. "They are thin books with yellow and brown covers, and pictures in them, and Priscilla puts them under the bed when anybody comes. She said some of them were yours."

"You must be mistaken, dear," said Claribel; "I haven't any such books. There! Lie down and go to sleep."

"I can't," said Madge; "I don't feel well. I wish Fanny would sleep in my bed and let me sleep with you."

"I will ask her," said Claribel; "but, Madge, what is the matter, that you don't feel well? Have you been eating anything?"

"Only a lemon and some chocolate-drops that Priscilla gave me," said Madge, unwillingly.

"Oh, Madge, that was naughty, when you know such things always make you sick," said Claribel. "But never mind now; I will put you in my bed, and perhaps you will go to sleep."

But sleep there was none for either Madge or Claribel that night. The poor child was taken very ill about midnight, and continued so for three or four days. She was quite sure she was going to die.

"I shouldn't so much mind dying," sobbed Madge—"I always did want to know how the people get out of their graves and go to heaven: but I have been so naughty, I am afraid the angels won't come after me."

There really seemed some danger that Madge would die. But after a few days she grew better, and was able to sit up and amuse herself with her dolls and animals.

Claribel had been unwearied in her attendance upon the child, who would hardly take either food or medicine from anybody else. Fanny, meantime, slept in the little room, which had a door opening out into the hall.

Fanny had been more like her old self since Madge's illness than for a long time before. She learned her lessons in her own room, and was very attentive in waiting upon and amusing Madge and relieving Claribel.

Claribel was delighted with the change, and began to hope that the old times were coming back again: but she was disappointed. Once more Fanny began to slip away to Priscilla's room at every opportunity. Her lessons were again neglected, and to Claribel's gentle remonstrances, she answered with either sullen silence or with floods of tears; declaring on one occasion that she was the wickedest and most miserable girl in the world, and she wished she was dead.

"But, Fanny dear, if you know you are wicked, why don't you try to be good?" Claribel ventured to ask.

"Because I can't," said Fanny, passionately; "I have tried, and it isn't one bit of use."

"Perhaps you didn't try in the right way."

Fanny knew this very well. She had not tried in the right way and with her whole heart. She knew what she ought to do, but she could not make up her mind to it, and so she went on stealing a guilty pleasure, ashamed and miserable and in constant fear of detection.

It was the custom of the school for all the boarders to assemble in one of the large rooms from eight to nine o'clock in the evening, and occupy themselves with some kind of needlework, while one of the teachers read aloud some interesting and amusing book. "Reading-hour" was one of the pleasantest parts of the day at Round Springs.

One evening, as they were gathered together, listening with great interest to a new book of travels, Mrs. Richardson entered the room followed by Mr. Hausen.

"You may suspend the reading a little while, Miss Foster," said Mr. Hausen.

The girls looked at each other, wondering what was coming. "I have found this book lying out under the tree in the grove," said he, holding up a thick, yellow-covered paper book with some tremendous pictures on the cover. "John Warner, the gardener, tells me that he saw one of the young ladies reading it in that place, but he does not know who it was. The book is one unfit to be touched, much less read, by any young lady, but it may have fallen into somebody's hands by accident, or have been left where it was found by one of the servants. I hope, if any of you have had it, you will tell the truth about it."

There was a dead silence, but Claribel felt her cheeks burn. She had seen the book before, but not lately.

"Remember that suspicion must rest upon everybody unless we can get at the truth," said Mr. Hausen.

"The book is my cousin Claribel's," said Priscilla.

Every one looked at Claribel, who sat still and looked at the floor.

"What do you say, Claribel?" asked Mr. "Is this book yours?"

"I believe it is, Mr. Hausen," said Claribel. "I had such a book once. I bought it on the cars one day last spring before I came here, but I never read more than a few pages of it. Then I threw it away in the garret at my aunt's, and I have never seen it since. I don't know how it should have come here."

"You are sure you did not bring it with you?"

"Quite sure; I never saw it again after I put it away in the garret. I thought it was not a good book, and very silly, besides."

"Do you know anything about it, Priscilla?" asked Mr. Hausen, turning to her.

"I know it is Claribel's book, and that it has been in her room since I came here," answered Priscilla, coolly; "Fanny has seen it there as well as myself. I am sorry to say so, and I wish I had held my peace; but as long as Claribel seems to want to throw the blame on me, I must tell the truth."

"What do you say, Fanny? Have you seen this book in Claribel's hands?"

"No, sir, not in her hands," answered Fanny, with some difficulty.

"But you saw it in her room?"

"Yes, sir;" and Fanny began to cry so that nothing more could be got out of her.

"I shall suspend my judgment on this matter for the present," said Mr. Hausen; "there is evidently an untruth somewhere. But remember this, all of you, that the truth is likely to come out some time or other."

Mr. Hausen then made some remarks on the evils of bad books, and dismissed the girls, requesting Claribel to remain behind for a while.

Of course the subject was talked over in all its bearings. Almost all the girls took sides with Claribel.

"But Claribel does go away in the grove to read almost every day," said one.

"What of that?" demanded Tilly. "It doesn't follow that she reads bad books, does it? I think I have heard of people who went away by themselves for other purposes. I no more believe that Claribel read that book than that I did."

"Who do you think did read it, then?" asked Rebecca. "If you say it wasn't Claribel, you accuse somebody else. Who do you think it was?"

"Who do I think it was?" repeated Tilly, turning upon her. "Well, if you want to know, I think it may have been a girl who gets over the back fence and runs away down to Sawyer's to buy candy and papers, if you know any such person."

"What do you mean, Tilly?" asked one of the girls.

"Never mind," said Tilly; "I know what I mean, and so does somebody else, perhaps. That book may have been Claribel's, as she says, but she never brought it here."

"Then if you think she didn't, I suppose you think I did?" said Priscilla. "What do you think of Fanny's seeing it in her room?"

"I think Fanny knows more than she chooses to tell," answered Tilly.

"Well, I don't see why you should all take Claribel's part," said Priscilla. "Of course I am glad you do, because she is my cousin; only that you can't excuse her without accusing me. If she did not bring it here, who did?"

"Perhaps it is not hers, after all," suggested Percy. "Of course there would be a great many of the same kind."

"Yes, but it is hers, because her name is written in it in two or three places," said Rebecca.

"How does thee know that?" asked Eva Church, who had not spoken before.

"Because I saw it."

"I don't very well understand how thee could see it when the book never left Robert Hausen's hands all the time he was talking," said Eva. "I think that is rather curious, Rebecca."

"Think what you like," interposed Priscilla. "Come, Rebecca, don't let us stand here in the cold all night. It is all nonsense, anyway, making such a fuss about a trumpery novel. What business is it of his what we read, so long as we learn our lessons? I am sure I never would have come here if I had known what sort of place it was."

"And I am sure I wish you never had," was Tilly's parting salute.

Claribel came to her room rather later, looking very unhappy indeed. She knew that she had told the truth, but appearances were against her, and she felt that she was distrusted. But she would not have minded so much, she thought, if only Fanny had not turned against her and told lies about her. Fanny said she had seen the book in Claribel's room, which Claribel was sure had never been there. Oh, it was very, very hard! How could she bear it? And again came the old thought, "They would never treat me so if I were like other people. It is just because I am a poor lame hunchback that every one is against me."

She took her Bible and tried to read, but could not fix her attention on the words. She knew that it was late, and that her light ought to be out, so she extinguished it and knelt down in the dark to say her prayers. It was very hard, and at first she could say no more than—

   "Oh, help me! Make me good! Show me what to do!"

But she grew calmer, and by degrees a sense of peace and comfort stole into her heart, and she became sensible that she was not left to bear her trouble alone. Many precious promises, the full value of which the dark hour of affliction only can disclose, came back to her mind, and she felt, as many another burdened soul has done, the force of those wonderful words,—

   "As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you."

Claribel was young, and her religious life was young also; but it was a real life, and she had this great advantage, that she was no halfhearted Christian. She was not trying to serve God as little and herself as much as she dared, but her eye was single and her heart united, and thus she had confidence toward God.

She lay down at last, but she could not sleep. She had lately been troubled with palpitation of the heart and a little difficulty of breathing, and it seemed to her, as she turned restlessly from side to side, as if she had a trip-hammer beating in her breast. She sat up in bed and piled the pillows behind her, and at last fell into a troubled slumber, from which she awoke with a sense of suffocation. The room seemed very close, and she got up, and putting on her flannel wrapper and a shawl, she softly opened the window.

As she did so, she saw that a bright light shone out of Fanny's window, which was next hers, for Fanny still slept in the little room. Her first thought was that Fanny must be ill when she heard a sound of something knocked down and a shrill scream from Fanny. She sprang to the door, and was met by Fanny with her night-dress all on fire, just bursting into a blaze.

In an instant, Claribel snatched up the blazing cotton, and gathering it in her hands and crushing it between her knees she succeeded in putting it out.

Fanny's screams had alarmed the house, but by the time Mrs. Richardson, who slept nearest, had reached the scene of action, the danger from fire was over.

Fanny, who had escaped with only a slight scorching, was crying bitterly, and Claribel lay back in her chair gasping for breath and with her hands terribly burned. She was quite unable to speak, and it was some time before Fanny was able to give any explanation.

"I suppose Claribel was sick and Fanny overset the light in getting up to do something for her," said Priscilla, who had come to her cousin's room, casting at the same time a meaning glance at Fanny.

"It wasn't, either, any such thing," sobbed Fanny, finding her voice at last. "And I have been as wicked as I could be since you took me from Claribel: and I am not going to tell any more lies for anybody; so there, Priscilla Westcott!"

"How was it, then?" asked Mrs. Richardson.

"I was reading in bed," said Fanny, "and I heard Claribel get up, and thought she would catch me, and I went to put the candle out and tipped it over. And I should have been burned to death only for Claribel, and she saved my life after I had told such a wicked story about her."

And again Fanny began to cry. "I said I saw that book in her room, and I did, because I had it in there reading it when she was away, and I have run away and done everything that was bad: but oh, Claribel, you will forgive me, won't you?"

"I am sure I do," answered Claribel, faintly.

Mrs. Richardson was very quick-sighted. In the midst of all her anxiety for Claribel, she had seen the look which Priscilla had bestowed on Fanny and her glance of rage when Fanny had insisted upon telling her own story. And she drew her conclusions and took her measures accordingly.

"We will hear the whole story in the morning," said she. "Go to bed now, Fanny, and don't cry any more. Priscilla, you will go directly to my room and go to bed there."

"Why can't I go to my own room?" asked Priscilla.

"Because I prefer you should go to mine," answered Mrs. Richardson, quietly.

"I suppose I can get my things to put on in the morning?" said Priscilla.

"No; Miss Foster will bring you everything you need. Miss Foster, you will please lock up Priscilla's room and keep the key."

"I don't know what I have done to be treated in this way," said Priscilla, turning pale.

"I don't say that you have done anything," answered Mrs. Richardson; "surely it is no great hardship to sleep in one room instead of another for one night. My room is fully as comfortable as your own."

There was no help for it, and Priscilla was obliged to submit.

Claribel's hands were by this time wrapped in clean soft cotton wadding, and some quieting medicine administered. Miss Foster took Madge to her own bed, and the house was once more quiet.