. She saw
Tom and Lucy with an empty chair between them, and there were the
custards on a side-table--it was too much. She slipped in and went
towards the empty chair. But she had no sooner sat down than she
repented, and wished herself back again.

Mrs. Tulliver gave a little scream as she saw her, and dropped the large
gravy-spoon into the dish with the most serious results to the
tablecloth.

Mrs. Tulliver's scream made all eyes turn towards the same point as her
own, and Maggie's cheeks and ears began to burn, while Uncle Glegg, a
kind-looking, white-haired old gentleman, said: "Heyday! what little
girl's this? Why, I don't know her. Is it some little girl you've picked
up in the road, Kezia?"

"Why, she's gone and cut her hair herself," said Mr. Tulliver in an
undertone to Mr. Deane, laughing with much enjoyment.

"Why, little Miss, you've made yourself look very funny," said Uncle
Pullet.

"Fie, for shame!" said Aunt Glegg, in her severest tone of reproof.
"Little girls that cut their own hair should be whipped and fed on bread
and water, not come and sit down with their aunts and uncles."

"Aye, aye," said Uncle Glegg, meaning to give a playful turn, "she must
be sent to jail, I think, and they'll cut the rest of her hair off
there, and make it all even."

"She's more like a gypsy than ever," said Aunt Pullet in a pitying tone.

"She's a naughty child, that'll break her mother's heart," said Mrs.
Tulliver, with the tears in her eyes.

Maggie seemed to be listening to a chorus of reproach and derision. Her
first flush came from anger. Tom thought she was braving it out,
supported by the recent appearance of the pudding and custard.

He whispered: "Oh, my! Maggie, I told you you'd catch it." He meant to
be friendly, but Maggie felt convinced that Tom was rejoicing in her
ignominy.

Her feeble power of defiance left her in an instant, her heart swelled,
and, getting up from her chair, she ran to her father, hid her face on
his shoulder, and burst out into loud sobbing. "Come, come," said her
father, soothingly, putting his arm round her, "never mind; give over
crying: father'll take your part."

Delicious words of tenderness! Maggie never forgot any of these moments
when her father "took her part"; she kept them in her heart, and thought
of them long years after, when every one else said that her father had
done very ill by his children.

GEORGE ELIOT: "The Mill on the Floss."
(Adapted)

TH