. When she came back her governess was standing
by the window.

"I cannot make out what I did with the key of my cupboard," she said.
"I thought I left it in the door."

"Perhaps you have it in your pocket," said Ermengarde.

"No, I have felt in my pocket. Well, we can't wait now. The children
will be starving for their tea. I promised to show Basil some
photographs which I have in the cupboard, but they must wait for
another time. Come, Ermengarde."

CHAPTER V.

LOCKED IN THE CUPBOARD.

Punishment has many degrees, and the sense of humiliation which
Ermengarde felt, when that morning she had been left prisoner in Miss
Nelson's sitting-room, was nothing indeed to the agony which she
endured when, supposed to be free and pardoned, she walked with her
governess to the hay-field.

Every moment she expected to hear Susy's piercing yells following her.
Susy was a child with little or no self-control. She hated dark rooms;
her imagination was unhealthy, and fostered in her home life in the
worst possible way. Ermengarde knew that she could hear Miss Nelson's
conversation, and every moment she expected her voice to arise within
the cupboard in protest.

When no sound came, however, a dreadful idea took possession of poor
Ermie's brain. The cupboard was not large; suppose Susy had been
suffocated. This terror became so insupportable that several times the
miserable child was on the point of confessing all. What kept her
back from doing this was the thought of Basil. While the ghost of a
chance remained she must avert the possibility of Basil looking down
on her. For Basil to despise her would have been the bitterest cup
which life at present could hold out to poor Ermengarde.

Miss Nelson and her pupil reached the hay-field, and then ensued a
scamper, a rush. Marjorie, Eric, Basil, Lucy, all crowded round their
sister. They were unfeignedly delighted to have her with them, and
Ermie could not but reflect how happy she would now be but for Susy.

"We are going to have such a time," said Marjorie. "After tea we are
going to build a hayrick, quite in a new way. It's to be hollow
inside, like a room, and pointed at the top, with a hole to let the
air in, and--why, what's the matter, Ermie? You look as white as
anything. We thought you'd be so fresh, for you have done nothing all
day. Now, I am tired, if you like. Oh, haven't I run?"

Marjorie stopped talking to mop her heated forehead.

"But it was glorious