crushing sense of misery. Tom was come home, and she had thought how
happy she should be; and now he was cruel to her. What use was anything
if Tom didn't love her? Oh, he was very cruel! Hadn't she wanted to give
him the money, and said how very sorry she was? She knew she was naughty
to her mother, but she had never been naughty to Tom--had never _meant_
to be naughty to him.

[Illustration: "OH, HE IS CRUEL!"]

"Oh, he is cruel!" Maggie sobbed aloud, finding a wretched pleasure in
the hollow resonance that came through the long empty space of the
attic. She never thought of beating or grinding her Fetish; she was too
miserable to be angry.

These bitter sorrows of childhood! when sorrow is all new and strange,
when hope has not yet got wings to fly beyond the days and weeks, and
the space from summer to summer seems measureless.

Maggie soon thought she had been hours in the attic, and it must be tea
time, and they were all having their tea, and not thinking of her. Well,
then, she would stay up there and starve herself,--hide herself behind
the tub, and stay there all night,--and then they would all be
frightened, and Tom would be sorry. Thus Maggie thought in the pride of
her heart, as she crept behind the tub; but presently she began to cry
again at the idea that they didn't mind her being there. If she went
down again to Tom now--would he forgive her? Perhaps her father would be
there, and he would take her part. But then she wanted Tom to forgive
her because he loved her, not because his father told him. No, she would
never go down if Tom didn't come to fetch her. This resolution lasted in
great intensity for five dark minutes behind the tub; but then the need
of being loved--the strongest need in poor Maggie's nature--began to
wrestle with her pride, and soon threw it. She crept from behind the tub
into the twilight of the long attic, but just then she heard a quick
footstep on the stairs.

Tom had been too much interested in his talk with Luke, in going the
round of the premises, walking in and out where he pleased, and
whittling sticks without any particular reason,--except that he didn't
whittle sticks at school,--to think of Maggie and the effect his anger
had produced on her. He meant to punish her, and that business having
been performed, he occupied himself with other matters, like a practical
person. But when he had been called in to tea, his father said, "Why,
where's the little wench?" and Mrs. T