minutes
from the time we left the quarry, before we saw you coming over the top of
the hill in the pasture, so that you could not have been very far in the
woods when we were shouting like--like--"

"Like boys in search of two young ladies supposed to be lost or _hidden_,"
said Uncle Morris, helping Guy to a comparison, and at the same time
hinting his suspicions of the truth in the case.

Jessie blushed deeply and was about to speak, when Emily, growing fiery
red with anger, said:

"_Well_, if you don't choose to believe me, you needn't, but I don't think
it's very polite to talk to me as if you thought I was telling you a
lie."

Seeing that her young guest was fast losing her temper, and that Master
Charlie was nodding over his empty plate and tea-cup, Mrs. Carlton rose
from the tea-table, and addressing the two girls, said:

"Perhaps, as you are wearied with your excursion, my dears, you had better
retire now, and finish your talk about it to-morrow, when you are rested.
Come, Charlie, open your eyes and go to bed!"

"Let me alone!" growled the drowsy boy, as his aunt took his hand to lift
him from his chair, and lead him from the room.

Jessie sighed, and looked as if she too had a story to tell when she
kissed her Uncle Morris good-night. The old gentleman returned her kiss
very affectionately, and whispered,

"Jessie, you make me think of the proverb which says, _The day that the
little chicken is pleased, is the very day that the hawk takes hold of
him._ Good night, dear!"

Jessie was puzzled, and all the way up-stairs kept saying to herself,
"What can Uncle Morris mean? what can Uncle Morris mean?" And while
undressing she said still to herself, "I can't be the chicken, because I'm
not pleased--but stop--Yes, I was pleased this morning. Perhaps, then, I'm
the chicken. And the hawk--must--be--well--it must be Emily! Ah! I see
now. He thinks Emily has made me do some wrong to-day. And he is right
too. It was wrong to hide away in the quarry. It was worse to pretend not
to hear when the boys called us. That was _acting_ a lie. And it was wrong
for me to keep still when Emily made up that wicked story about our
getting lost. Oh dear! Oh dear! How sorry I am! I wish I hadn't hid away
in the quarry!"

"What makes you look so glum, Miss Solemn Face?" asked Emily, who, without
kneeling down to say her evening prayer, was getting ready for bed as fast
as her nimble fingers could move.

"I am thinking that