as dark brown, her
eye-brows strongly marked, the eyes themselves rather deep-set. She
wore a pretty plum-coloured dress, with a dainty little apron in front;
her whole appearance bespeaking a certain taste and love of elegance in
the person who had the care of her.

"You will be glad to hear," said Miss Rutherford, "that Harriet's hurt
is not as serious as we feared at first. But she will have to stay at
home for some days."

There was no motion, or reply.

"Do you know that I am quite afraid of you, Ida? I had no idea that you
were so passionate. Had you no thought what harm you might do when you
struck that terrible blow?"

But Ida could not converse; no word was to be got from her.

"You must go home now," went on the schoolmistress after a pause, "and
not come back till I send for you. Tell your mother just what you have
done, and say that I will write to her about you. You understand what I
say, my child?"

The punishment had come upon her. Nothing worse than this had Ida
imagined; nay, nothing so bad. She drew in her breath, her fingers
wreathed themselves violently together behind her back. She half raised
her face, but could not resolve to meet her teacher's eyes. On the
permission to go being repeated, she left the room in silence,
descended the stairs with the slow steps of an old person, dressed
herself mechanically, and went out into the street. Miss Rutherford
stood for some time in profound and troubled thought, then sighed as
she returned to her usual engagements.

The following day was Saturday, and therefore a half-holiday. After
dinner, Miss Rutherford prepared herself for walking, and left home. A
quarter of an hour brought her to a little out-of-the-way thoroughfare
called Boston Street, close to the west side of Regent's Park, and here
she entered a chemist's shop, over which stood the name Smales. A
middle-aged man of very haggard and feeble appearance stood behind the
counter, and his manner to the lady as she addressed him was painfully
subservient. He spoke very little above a whisper, and as though
suffering from a severe sore throat, but it was his natural voice.

"She's better, I thank you, madam; much better, I hope and believe;
yes, much better."

He repeated his words nervously, rubbing his hands together feverishly
the while, and making his eye-brows go up and down in a curious way.

"Might I see her for a few moments?"

"She would be happy, madam, very happy: oh yes, I am