I am by no means sure that I have done right in recalling Mr.
Kneebreeches so soon, Sister Tabitha," remarked Miss Grizzel, uneasily,
when Griselda had left the room. But Miss Tabitha was busy counting her
stitches, and did not give full attention to Miss Grizzel's observation,
so she just repeated placidly, "Oh yes, Sister Grizzel, you may be sure
you have done right in recalling Mr. Kneebreeches."

"I am glad you think so," said Miss Tabitha, with again a little sigh of
relief. "I was only distressed to see the child looking so white and
tired."

Upstairs Griselda was hurry-scurrying into bed. There was a lovely fire
in her room--fancy that! Was she not a poor neglected little creature?
But even this did not please her. She was too cross to be pleased with
anything; too cross to wash her face and hands, or let Dorcas brush her
hair out nicely as usual; too cross, alas, to say her prayers! She just
huddled into bed, huddling up her mind in an untidy hurry and confusion,
just as she left her clothes in an untidy heap on the floor. She would
not look into herself, was the truth of it; she shrank from doing so
because she _knew_ things had been going on in that silly little heart
of hers in a most unsatisfactory way all day, and she wanted to go to
sleep and forget all about it.

She did go to sleep, very quickly too. No doubt she really was tired;
tired with crossness and doing nothing, and she slept very soundly. When
she woke up she felt so refreshed and rested that she fancied it must be
morning. It was dark, of course, but that was to be expected in
mid-winter, especially as the shutters were closed.

"I wonder," thought Griselda, "I wonder if it really _is_ morning. I
should like to get up early--I went so early to bed. I think I'll just
jump out of bed and open a chink of the shutters. I'll see at once if
it's nearly morning, by the look of the sky."

She was up in a minute, feeling her way across the room to the window,
and without much difficulty she found the hook of the shutters,
unfastened it, and threw one side open. Ah no, there was no sign of
morning to be seen. There was moonlight, but nothing else, and not so
very much of that, for the clouds were hurrying across the "orbed
maiden's" face at such a rate, one after the other, that the light was
more like a number of pale flashes than the steady, cold shining of most
frosty moonlight nights. There was going to be a change of weather, and
the cloud armi