s looking very tired, and no wonder, poor dear little mamma,
when you think what a day of it she had had, and all the bother with the
witch the night before, too.

I never saw Miss Bogle, and I've never wanted to. I shall always
consider that she was nearly as bad as if she _had_ been a witch, and it
was no thanks to her that poor little Margaret didn't get really lost,
or badly ill, or something of that kind.

They were expecting us when we got home. Blanche and Elf were in the
hall, looking rather excited and very shy. But there was not much fear
of shyness with Margaret and Peterkin, as neither of them was ever
troubled with such a thing.

I left Pete to do the honours, so to say, helped by mamma, of course.
They all went off together upstairs to show Margaret her room and the
nursery, and to introduce her to nurse and all the rest of it, and I
went into the schoolroom--a small sort of study behind the dining-room,
and sat down by myself, feeling rather 'out of it' and 'flat,' and
almost a little ashamed of myself and the whole affair somehow.

And the fire was low and the room looked dull and chilly, and I began
thinking how horrid it would be to go to school the next morning without
having done my lessons properly, and not knowing what to say about
having missed a day, without the excuse, or good reason, of having been
ill.

I had sat there some time, a quarter-of-an-hour or so, I daresay, when I
heard the front-door bell ring. Then I heard James opening and the door
shutting, and, a moment after, the door of the room where I was opened,
and some one came in, and banged something down on to the table. By that
I knew who it was. It was Clement, with his school-books.

It was nearly dark by this time, and the room was not lighted up at all.
So he did not see me at first, till I moved a little, which made him
start.

'Good gracious!' he exclaimed, 'is that you, Gilley? What are you doing
all alone in the dark? James told me you had all come--the kid from Rock
Terrace too. By jove--' and he began to laugh a little to himself.

It seemed a sort of last straw. I was tired and ashamed, and all wrong
somehow. I did not speak till I was at the door, for I got up to leave
the room at once. Then I said--

'You needn't go at me like that. You might let me sit here if I want to.
You don't suppose I've been enjoying myself these two days, do you?'

He seemed to understand all about it at once. He caught hold of my arm