began her usual home letter, but had not written half
a page when she broke down, and spent the next half hour in having a
good cry, which was perhaps the most satisfactory thing she could have
done under the circumstances.

She had just dried her eyes, and having made a brave resolution not to
be so foolish again, was sitting down with the intention of going on
with her letter, when she heard her uncle's voice calling her from the
sitting-room.

"Come here, Marjorie," said Mr. Carleton, kindly, as his niece appeared
in answer to his summons. "Sit down and let us have a little talk before
the others come home."

Marjorie complied. She hoped devoutly that her uncle would not notice
that she had been crying, but perhaps Uncle Henry's eyes were sharper
than his family always suspected.

"Marjorie," he said abruptly, "I want you to tell me what this trouble
is between you and Elsie."

Marjorie gave a little gasp, and her cheeks grew pink.

"I--I'm afraid I can't tell you, Uncle Henry," she faltered; "you had
better ask Elsie."

"I have asked her, and so has your aunt, but she refused to tell us
anything except that you have quarreled about something, and that you
have treated her rather unkindly."

Marjorie's eyes flashed indignantly, and she bit her lips to keep back
the angry words.

"Now I happen to know a good deal about these little quarrels of
Elsie's," Mr. Carleton went on quietly. "She is a good girl, and a
clever one, too, but she has her faults and I have no reason to suppose
that you are any more to blame than she in this case. All I want is a
clear account of what happened, and then I can settle this tempest in a
teapot, which I can see has been making you both unhappy for the past
two days."

By this time Marjorie had succeeded in controlling her temper, and her
voice was quite clear and steady as she answered--

"I am very sorry, Uncle Henry, but if Elsie hasn't told you what the
trouble is, I am afraid I can't tell either. Please don't be angry, or
think me disrespectful, but I can't tell; it wouldn't be fair."

Mr. Carleton was evidently displeased.

"Very well," he said, turning away coldly, and taking up a book, "I have
no more to say on the matter. I am sorry, for I hoped you would have
sufficient confidence in your aunt and me to trust us, and confide in
us. I do not wish to force you to tell us anything against your will,
but you must remember that your mother has placed you under our