sons still?" he said. "Have you a governess?"

"No," she answered, in a tone of amusement. "But Cousin Godfrey teaches
me many things."

This made Tom thoughtful; and little more had been said, when they
reached the gate of the yard behind the house, and she would not let
him go a step farther.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE OAK.

In the morning, as she narrated the events of the evening, she told her
aunt of the acquaintance she had made, and that he had seen her home.
This information did not please the old lady, as, indeed, without
knowing any reason, Letty had expected. Mrs. Wardour knew all about
Tom's mother, or thought she did, and knew little good; she knew also
that, although her son was a general favorite, her own son had a very
poor opinion of him. On these grounds, and without a thought of
injustice to Letty, she sharply rebuked the poor girl for allowing such
a fellow to pay her any attention, and declared that, if ever she
permitted him so much as to speak to her again, she would do something
which she left in a cloud of vaguest suggestion.

Letty made no reply. She was hurt. Nor was it any wonder if she judged
this judgment of Tom by the injustice of the judge to herself. It was
of no consequence to her, she said to herself, whether she spoke to him
again or not; but had any one the right to compel another to behave
rudely? Only what did it matter, since there was so little chance of
her ever seeing him again! All day she felt weary and disappointed,
and, after the merrymaking of the night before, the household work was
irksome. But she would soon have got over both weariness and tedium had
her aunt been kind. It is true, she did not again refer to Tom, taking
it for granted that he was done with; but all day she kept driving
Letty from one thing to another, nor was once satisfied with anything
she did, called her even an ungrateful girl, and, before evening, had
rendered her more tired, mortified, and dispirited, than she had ever
been in her life.

But the tormentor was no demon; she was only doing what all of us have
often done, and ought to be heartily ashamed of: she was only emptying
her fountain of bitter water. Oppressed with the dregs of her headache,
wretched because of her son's absence, who had not been a night from
home for years, annoyed that she had spent time and money in
preparation for nothing, she had allowed the said cistern to fill to
overflowing, and upon Letty it overflowed li