"Poor little girl; how sad to be without her!"

"Don't," said Evelyn in a strained voice.

"You lived all your early days in Tasmania, and your mother was good to you because she loved you, and you loved her back; you tried to please her because you loved her."

"Oh, bother!" said Evelyn.

"Come here, dear."

Evelyn did not budge an inch.

"Come over to me," said Miss Henderson.

Miss Henderson was not accustomed to being disobeyed. Her tone was not loud, but it was quiet and determined. She looked full at Evelyn. Her eyes were kind. Evelyn felt as if they mesmerized her. Step by step, very unwillingly, she approached the side of the head-mistress.

"I love girls like you," said Miss Henderson then.

"Bother!" said Evelyn again.

"And I do not mind even when they are sulky and rude and naughty, as you are now; still, I love them-I love them because I am sorry for them."

"You need not be sorry for me; I won't have you sorry for me," said Evelyn.

"If I must not be sorry for you I must be something else."

"What?"

"Angry with you."

"Why so? I never! What do you mean now?"

"I must be angry with you, Evelyn-very angry. But I will say no more by way of excusing my own conduct. I will say nothing of either sorrow or anger. I want to state a fact to you."

"Get it over," said Evelyn.

Miss Henderson now approached the table; she opened the History at the reign of Edward I., and taking two tiny fragments of torn paper from the pages of the book, she laid them in her open palm. In her other hand she held the mutilated copy of _Sesame and Lilies_. The print on the torn sc.r.a.p exactly corresponded with the print in the injured volume. Miss Henderson glanced from Evelyn to the sc.r.a.ps of paper, and from Evelyn to the copy of Ruskin.

"You have intelligence," she said; "you must see what this means."

She then carefully replaced the bits of paper in the History and laid it on the table by her side.

"Between now," she said, "and this time yesterday Miss Thompson discovered these sc.r.a.ps of paper in the copy of the History which you had to read on the morning of the day when you first came to school. The sc.r.a.ps are evidently part of the pages torn from the injured book. Have you anything to say with regard to them?"

Evelyn shook her head; her face was white and her eyes bright. But there was a small red spot on each cheek-a spot about the size of a farthing.

It did not grow any larger. It gave a curious effect to the pallid face.

The obstinacy of the mouth was very apparent. The cleft in the chin still further showed the curious bias of the girl's character.

"Have you anything to say-any remark to make?"

Again the head was slowly shaken.

"Is there any reason why I should not immediately after prayers to-day explain these circ.u.mstances to the whole school, and allow the school to draw its own conclusions?"

Evelyn now raised her eyes and fixed them on Miss Henderson's face.

"You will not do that, will you?" she asked.

"Have you ever, Evelyn, heard of such a thing as circ.u.mstantial evidence?"

"No. What is it?"

"You are very ignorant, my dear child-ignorant as well as wilful; wilful as well as wicked."

"No, I am not wicked; you shall not say it!"

"Tell me, is there any reason why I should not show what I have now shown you to the rest of the school, and allow the school to draw its own conclusion?"

"You won't-will you?"

"Must I explain to you, Evelyn, what this means?"

"You can say anything you like."

"These sc.r.a.ps of paper prove beyond doubt that you, for some extraordinary reason, were the person who tore the book. Why you did it is beyond my conception, is beyond Miss Thompson's conception, is beyond the conception of my sister Lucy; but that you did do it we none of us for a moment doubt."

"Oh, you are wicked! How dare you think such things of me?"

"Tell me, Evelyn-tell me why you did it. Come here and tell me. I will not be unkind to you, my poor little girl. I am sorry for one so ignorant, so wanting in all conceptions of right or wrong. Tell me, dear, and as there is a G.o.d in heaven, Evelyn, I will forgive you."

"I will not tell you what I did not do," said the angry child.

"You are vexed now and do not know what you are saying. I will go away, and come back again at the end of half an hour; perhaps you will tell me then."

Evelyn stood silent. Miss Henderson, taking the History with her, left the room. She turned the key in the lock. Evelyn rushed to the window.

Could she get out by it? She rushed to the door and tried to open it.

Window and door defied her efforts. She was locked in. She was like a wild creature in a trap. To scream would do no good. Never before had the spoilt child found herself in such a position. A wild agony seized her; even now she did not repent.

If only mothery were alive! If only she were back on the ranch! If only Jasper were by her side!

"Oh mothery! oh Jasper!" she cried; and then a sob rose to her throat, tears burst from her eyes. The tension for the time was relieved; she huddled up in a chair, and sobbed as if her heart would break.

Miss Henderson came back again in half an hour. Evelyn was still sobbing.

"Well, Evelyn," she said, "I am just going into the schoolroom now for prayers. Have you made up your mind? Will you tell me why you did it, and how you did it, and why you denied it? Just three questions, dear; answer truthfully, and you will have got over the most painful and terrible crisis of your life. Be brave, little girl; ask G.o.d to help you."

"I cannot tell you what I do not know," burst now from the angry child.

"Think what you like. Do what you like. I am at your mercy; but I hate you, and I will never be a good girl-never, never! I will be a bad girl always-always; and I hate you-I hate you!"

Miss Henderson did not speak a word. The most violent pa.s.sion cannot long retain its hold when the person on whom its rage is spent makes no reply. Even Evelyn cooled down a little. Miss Henderson stood quite still; then she said gently: