n-stairs, the only one of the privileged race who was a wonted
object on this side the baize door. Phoebe thought he looked more
cheerful, and indeed gravity could hardly have withstood Bertha's face,
as she gave a mischievous tweak to his hair behind, under colour of
putting her arm round his neck.

'Well, Curlylocks, how much mischief did you do yesterday?'

'I'd no spirits for mischief,' she answered, with mock pitifulness,
twinkling up her eyes, and rubbing them with her knuckles as if she were
crying. 'You barbarous wretch, taking Phoebe to feast on strawberries
and cream with Miss Charlecote, and leaving poor me to poke in that
stupid drawing-room, with nothing to do but to count the scollops of
mamma's flounce!'

'It is your turn. Will Miss Fennimore kindly let you have a walk with me
this evening?'

'And me,' said Maria.

'You, of course. May I come for them at five o'clock?'

'I can hardly tell what to say about Maria. I do not like to disappoint
her, but she knows that nothing displeases me so much as that
ill-mannered habit of giggling,' said Miss Fennimore, not without
concern. Merciful as to Maria's attainments, she was strict as to her
manners, and was striving to teach her self-restraint enough to be
unobtrusive.

Poor Maria's eyes were glassy with tears, her chest heaved with sobs, and
she broke out, 'O pray, Miss Fennimore, O pray!' while all the others
interceded for her; and Bertha, well knowing that it was all her fault,
avoided the humiliation of a confession, by the apparent generosity of
exclaiming, 'Take us both to-morrow instead, Robin.'

Robert's journey was, however, fixed for that day, and on this plea,
licence was given for the walk. Phoebe smiled congratulation, but Maria
was slow in cheering up; and when, on returning to the schoolroom, the
three sisters were left alone together for a few moments, she pressed up
to Phoebe's side, and said, 'Phoebe, I've not said my prayers. Do you
think anything will happen to me?'

Her awfully mysterious tone set Bertha laughing. 'Yes, Maria, all the
cows in the park will run at you,' she was beginning, when the grave
rebuke of Phoebe's eyes cut her short.

'How was it, my dear?' asked Phoebe, tenderly fondling her sister.

'I was so sleepy, and Bertha would blow soap-bubbles in her hands while
we were washing, and then Miss Fennimore came, and I've been naughty now,
and I know I shall go on, and then Robin won't take me.'

'I will