lled than you would ever believe.
Mamma, I have been with Mrs. Turner to the Mechanics' Institute.'

'My dear Lizzie, you do not mean it!' said Mrs. Woodbourne.

'Yes, Mamma, indeed it is so,' said Elizabeth mournfully; 'I did not
know what had happened there certainly, but I would not listen to
Helen's good advice, and so I have made Papa seem to consent to what he
abhors; I have led Kate and Anne and Harriet all wrong. Oh! Mamma, is
not it terrible?'

'Indeed, I wish I had told you what your Papa said to Mr. Turner,' said
Mrs. Woodbourne; 'I am afraid your papa will be very much annoyed; but,
my dear, do not distress yourself, you could not know that it was
wrong.'

'Yes; but, Mamma,' said Elizabeth, 'I did know that it was wrong to go
out without asking your leave. Simple obedience might have kept me
straight. But now I will tell you all, and you shall judge what had
best be done about the Hazlebys and Fido.'

Rather incoherently, and with many sobs, Elizabeth told the history of
the preceding evening. Mrs. Woodbourne listened to her with the utmost
kindness, and said all she could to soothe and console her, assuring
her that Mr. Woodbourne could not be seriously displeased with her for
having transgressed a command of which she was ignorant. Elizabeth was
much relieved by having been able to talk over her conduct in this
manner; and though she still felt that she had been very much to blame,
and by no means sure that Mr. Woodbourne would pass over her fault so
lightly, was greatly comforted by her mamma's kindness. She went away
to bathe her swollen eyes, before she went down to the school-room to
read the Psalms and Lessons with her sisters, as was their regular
custom when there was no service at the church, before they began their
morning's work; Mrs. Woodbourne undertaking to call the children down
in a few minutes, and saying that she would speak to Katherine in the
course of the day. She willingly promised to say nothing to Mrs.
Hazleby, and only wished she was quite sure that there were no symptoms
of madness about Fido.

'What a strange girl Lizzie is!' cried Harriet, just as Elizabeth
departed on her search for her father or Mrs. Woodbourne.

'But, Harriet,' said Lucy, drawing her aside to the window, 'what
difference is her saying nothing to make? Mamma will ask how Fido was
lost.'

'I am sure, Lucy, that was more your fault than mine,' said Harriet; 'I
could not be watching him all the ti