Anna's shoulder.

"My dear," she said, "you distress yourself without reason. We can rely
on Dr Hunt's opinion that your grandfather only needs rest. Sleep is
the very best thing for him. When you go this evening, you will see how
foolish you have been. Meanwhile, try to exercise some self-control;
occupy yourself, and the time will soon pass."

She turned to her gardening again, and Anna wandered off alone. Aunt
Sarah's calm words had no comfort in them. Delia's severest rebuke,
even Mrs Winn's plain speech, would have been better. She went
restlessly up to her bedroom, seeking she hardly knew what. Her eye
fell on the little brown case, long unopened, which held her mother's
portrait. Words, long unthought of, came back to her as she looked at
it.

"If you are half as good and beautiful," her father had said; and on the
same day what had been Miss Milverton's last warning? "Try to value the
best things."

"Oh," cried Anna to herself as she looked at the pure, truthful eyes of
the picture, "if I only could begin again! But now it's all got so
wrong, it can never, never be put right!"

After a while, she went into the garden again, and avoiding Mrs
Forrest, crossed the little foot-bridge leading into the field, and sat
down on the gate. The chimneys of Leas Farm in the distance made her
think of Daisy, and the old days when they had first met, and she had
been so full of good resolves. Daisy, and the good resolves, and Delia
too, seemed all to have vanished together. She had no friends now.
Every one had deserted her, and she had deserved it!

She was sitting during those reflections with her face buried in her
hands, and presently was startled by the sound of a little voice behind
her.

"What's the matter?" it said.

It was Daisy Oswald, who had come through the garden, and now stood on
the bridge close to her, a basket of eggs in her hand, and her childish,
freckled face full of wonder and sympathy.

Generally, Anna would have been ashamed to be seen in distress, and
would have tried to hide it, but now she was too miserable to mind
anything. She hid her face in her hands again, without answering
Daisy's question.

"Has some one been cross?" inquired Daisy at last.

Anna shook her head. Her heart ached for sympathy even from Daisy,
though she could not speak to her, and she hoped she would not go away
just yet.

"Have you hurt yourself?" proceeded Daisy.

Again the same sign.

"Have