elt awkward and embarrassed, and
her words were very faint and stumbling, but she went to the fire and
stirred it up to make the kettle boil. Then, by degrees, recovering
herself, she quietly cut some bread and butter for all, and made the tea.

Bella shrank a little from her aunt when she handed her cup, and beyond
the faintest "Thank you," did not utter a word. She was still suffering
from the shock of the sudden assault and the blows. Her nerves were
quivering, her head throbbing, and the only feeling she as yet experienced
strongly was a kind of shame--shame for her aunt and for herself.

It was a most uncomfortable meal that, in spite of Miss Hender's efforts.
William Hender sat morose and thoughtful; Bella, like her aunt, was
embarrassed and very silent. The two boys and Margery alone found
anything to say, or spirit to say it, and though all felt better and more
cheerful for the meal, no one was sorry when it was ended.

Miss Hender was the first to rise. She returned to her washing-tub,
William Hender to his work, and the children went out to their play in the
garden. All went on as usual, and not a word more was said of the scene
that had brought them all together. Yet all felt that in that short hour
things had altered, and for ever. That something had happened which meant
changes, perhaps not great, but changes for them all, and that life would
never be quite the same again.

CHAPTER III.

THE LITTLE HERB-BED.

For some days after that unhappy Monday Bella and her aunt scarcely
exchanged a word. It was not that Bella was sulky, or bore malice in her
heart; it was chiefly that she felt embarrassed and awkward still.
Indeed, they both felt so. That scene seemed to be for ever between them,
and neither could forget it.

It was holiday time, too, so there was no school to take Bella away from
her home, and as she did not like to ask Miss Hender to give her something
to do, she wandered about, idle and unhappy, not knowing how to fill her
days. Consequently she wandered more than once down the lane to Mrs.
Langley's little cottage. The peace and the cheerfulness of that little
home drew her irresistibly.

"Oh! if only our house was like this!" she exclaimed one day. "So quiet,
and tidy, and clean. I should like to live in a little house like this
all by myself when I grow up."

Mrs. Langley looked at her with a shade of sadness in her gentle brown
eyes. "My dear, don't say that! It