er hair, or praise her
compositions, or call her "honey," or, even, perhaps, allow her to help
her on Fridays!--and what, then, would be the use of living? If only
she could die and be dead like a cat or a bird and not go to hell, she
would take the carving-knife and kill herself! But there was hell to be
taken into consideration. And yet, could hell hold anything worse than
the loss of Miss Margaret's kindness? HOW could she tell her of that
burned-up book and endure to see her look at her with cold disapproval?
Oh, to make such return for her kindness, when she so longed with all
her soul to show her how much she loved her!

For the first time in all her school-days, Tillie went next morning
with reluctance to school.

III

"WHAT'S HURTIN' YOU, TILLIE?"

She meant to make her confession as soon as she reached the
school-house--and have it over--but Miss Margaret was busy writing on
the blackboard, and Tillie felt an immense relief at the necessary
postponement of her ordeal to recess time.

The hours of that morning were very long to her heavy heart, and the
minutes dragged to the time of her doom--for nothing but blackness lay
beyond the point of the acknowledgment which must turn her teacher's
fondness to dislike.

She saw Miss Margaret's eyes upon her several times during the morning,
with that look of anxious concern which had so often fed her starved
affections. Yes, Miss Margaret evidently could see that she was in
trouble and she was feeling sorry for her. But, alas, when she should
learn the cause of her misery, how surely would that look turn to
coldness and displeasure!

Tillie felt that she was ill preparing the way for her dread confession
in the very bad recitations she made all morning. She failed in
geography--every question that came to her; she failed to understand
Miss Margaret's explanation of compound interest, though the
explanation was gone over a third time for her especial benefit; she
missed five words in spelling and two questions in United States
history!

"Tillie, Tillie!" Miss Margaret solemnly shook her head, as she closed
her book at the end of the last recitation before recess. "Too much
'Ivanhoe,' I'm afraid! Well, it's my fault, isn't it?"

The little girl's blue eyes gazed up at her with a look of such
anguish, that impulsively Miss Margaret drew her to her side, as the
rest of the class moved away to their seats.

"What's the matter, dear?" she asked. "Aren't y