iar
room.

"Well, my dear, what is it?" she said to Grace. "Sit in the
arm-chair, my dear, and we can then talk comfortably." The teachers,
when they were closeted with Miss Prettyman, were always asked to sit
in the arm-chair, whereas a small, straight-backed, uneasy chair was
kept for the young ladies. And there was, too, a stool of repentance,
out against the wall, very uncomfortable indeed for young ladies who
had not behaved themselves so prettily as young ladies generally do.

Grace seated herself, and then began her speech very quickly. "Miss
Prettyman," she said, "I have made up my mind that I will go home, if
you please."

"And why should you go home, Grace? Did I not tell you that you
should have a home here?" Miss Prettyman had weak eyes, and was very
small, and had never possessed any claim to be called good-looking.
And she assumed nothing of the majestical awe from any adornment or
studied amplification of the outward woman by means of impressive
trappings. The possessor of an unobservant eye might have called her
a mean-looking, little old woman. And certainly there would have been
nothing awful in her to any one who came across her otherwise than
as a lady having authority in her own school. But within her own
precincts, she did know how to surround herself with a dignity which
all felt who approached her there. Grace Crawley, as she heard
the simple question which Miss Prettyman had asked, unconsciously
acknowledged the strength of the woman's manner. She already stood
rebuked for having proposed a plan so ungracious, so unnecessary, and
so unwise.

"I think I ought to be with mamma at present," said Grace.

"You mother has your sister with her."

"Yes, Miss Prettyman; Jane is there."

"If there is no other reason, I cannot think that that can be held to
be a reason now. Of course your mother would like to have you always;
unless you should be married,--but then there are reasons why this
should not be so."

"Of course there are."

"I do not think,--that is, if I know all that there is to be
known,--I do not think, I say, that there can be any good ground for
your leaving us now,--just now."

Then Grace sat silent for a moment, gathering her courage, and
collecting her words; and after that she spoke. "It is because of
papa, and because of this charge--"

"But, Grace--"

"I know what you are going to say, Miss Prettyman;--that is, I think
I know."

"If you will hear me, you may be su