Ruth hesitated.

'Yes, for some things I would,' she said. 'But I was very pleased to come here.'

'_Were_ you?' said Flossie, rather incredulously. 'You don't look very happy. I thought so the first day. I wrote to mother that you had a kind face, but not a happy one.'

'_Did_ you, Miss Flossie?' exclaimed Ruth, rather taken aback. 'Well, at home I was called the merriest of everybody, and, and--I've been merry here sometimes.'

'But you're not now, Ruth,' said Flossie gravely. Then she peered up into the little maid's face with her big gray eyes. 'I'll tell you what, Ruth,' she said, 'I believe you've something on your mind. It's very bad to have something on your mind. _I know about it_,' she went on mysteriously.

Ruth grew scarlet.

'You know about me having something on my mind, Miss Flossie,' she said.

'What do you mean?'

Flossie did not at once answer.

'I hate pa.s.sing that way,' she murmured to herself. 'I shut my eyes tight not to see the cabi----. What are you staring at me like that for, Ruth?' she broke off suddenly, finding the girl's eyes fixed upon her.

'I only said it's very bad to have something on your mind, and so it is.'

Ruth by this time was as pale as she had been red.

'But what do you mean--how do you know, Miss Flossie? How do you know I have anything on my mind, and what were you saying about the old cabinet?'

'I was speaking to myself. You shouldn't listen,' said Flossie crossly.

'_I've_ something on my mind, but you needn't ask about it. You may be sorry for me, just as I'm sorry for you, but you needn't ask questions about what it is.'

'I--I wasn't asking questions,' said Ruth, more and more bewildered. 'I was only wondering why--what--what made you speak of the old cabinet in the pa.s.sage? Did anyone--Naylor or anyone--say anything about it since you came, Miss Flossie?'

It was Flossie's turn to start.

'No,' she said, 'of course not. n.o.body knows--oh, I wish I hadn't come here!' she suddenly broke off, 'and I wish you wouldn't speak of horrid things, Ruth. You weren't here in the winter; you couldn't know. And oh, I _am_ so unhappy,' and throwing herself into Ruth's arms, the little girl burst into loud weeping.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER IV.--A DOUBLE CONFESSION.

This was what was on little Flossie's mind, and on her grandmother's mind too, for that matter! It had happened several months ago, during the child's last visit to the Tower House.

One day Flossie had a cold. Not a very bad one, but enough to make her cross and uncomfortable. She was tired of reading, tired of her dolls, tired of everything, and it was a very woebegone-looking little girl that came to say good-night to grandmamma.

'I wish I'd something to amuse me,' she said dolefully. 'If my cold isn't better to-morrow and I can't go out, I don't know what to do all day.'

Lady Melicent considered.

'I'll tell you what, Flossie,' she said. 'You might make some bead-mats.

That would amuse you. I have some very pretty beads in the green casket that stands on the old cabinet in the pa.s.sage--at least I think they're there. I'll see to-morrow.'

Flossie jumped with pleasure.

'Oh, that would be nice, granny. Can't you look for them to-night? I might make a mat for mamma's birthday. Mayn't I go and look for them?'

'No, dear. The pa.s.sage is cold, and besides that, the cabinet is too high for you to reach up to. You might pull over some of the heavy ornaments and hurt yourself. Wait till to-morrow, and I will find the beads for you. I won't forget.'

Flossie was sitting reading in the boudoir the next morning, when Lady Melicent came in with two or three little cardboard boxes in her hand.

She looked at the child.

'Flossie,' she said quietly, 'here are the beads. I found them up-stairs in my work-box. They were not in the green casket.'

'Thank you, grandmamma,' said Flossie. But she scarcely looked up.

'Don't you care about making the mats now, Flossie?' said Lady Melicent.

'You seemed so pleased with the idea last night.'

'I would like to make a mat for mother very much,' said Flossie, getting up and coming round to her grandmother.

But that was all she said, and two days after, the little girl left rather suddenly, as her father came over to fetch her and her cold was better. And ever since then there had been a little ache in grandmother's heart about Flossie. For that morning, when she went to look for the beads in the malachite casket, she had found it broken, and speaking of it to Naylor, the housemaid had thought it right to tell her that it was Miss Flossie's doing.

'I saw her climbing up on a chair, when I was in the book-room,' said Naylor. 'And I heard something fall. It was the green box. She put it back again in its place, but the lid was broke off the hinges, and one corner off. I'm very sorry, and I'm sure Miss Flossie was, for I heard her crying.' Flossie was a great favourite of Naylor's.

'I wish she had told me about it herself,' said the old lady with a sigh. 'But don't say anything about it, Naylor. She will forget about it probably for the time, but when she comes back again, I hope she will tell me.'

Flossie did not forget about it, though she tried to do so. But the broken casket was the mysterious 'something on her mind,' of which she had spoken to Ruth. And the remembrance of it was what had prevented her enjoying as usual the thought of a visit to the Tower House, and given her such a dislike to the long pa.s.sage which had once been her favourite play-room.

You can now understand with what a strange mixture of feelings Ruth listened to Flossie's story. She soothed the poor little girl as well as she could, though feeling dreadfully ashamed when Flossie went on to blame herself bitterly.

'It was so naughty and mean of me not to tell granny,' she sobbed, 'for she's always so kind. And sometimes I've been afraid she'd think somebody else had broken it. Do you think granny has never found it out, Ruth?'

'I can't say, I'm sure, Miss Flossie,' said Ruth sadly. 'But it's clear there's only one thing to be done now, and that's for you to tell my lady yourself all about it.'

'I'll tell her when I go to have my good-night talk with her,' said Flossie. 'O Ruth, I'll _never_ hide anything again.'

Her words were fervently echoed in Ruth's heart. She was on the point of confessing her own secret to the little girl, but a moment's reflection made her hesitate. No, she too must tell all to Lady Melicent herself, and it must be for her to judge if Flossie should be told.

'And if my lady thinks me not fit to be trusted any more, and I have to go home in disgrace, I must just bear it. It's my own fault,' thought Ruth.

It was a tearful but a happy little girl who came trotting up to be undressed and put to bed at the Tower House that evening.

'Granny has been so kind,' she said, 'and I am so glad I've told her.

It was dreadful to have it on my mind, Ruth dear. And granny has been telling me how good you were about the basin, and I said to her it was you that said I must tell. And do you know, she _did_ know I'd broken it, only she waited for me to tell myself. It's never been mended, but now she's going to send it to be done.'

Ruth sympathised in Flossie's joy, and the child was too happy to notice the girl's sadness. All Florentia said only made her own confession the more difficult.

'There is no real need for it,' said the tempter. 'No one can be blamed now. Indeed, it was not you who broke it after all.'

But Ruth had a conscience.