the same. It's you he wants to
see as much as the fruit. If I was a little lady I'd keep my word to
the poor. It's a dangerous thing to break your word to the poor;
there's God's curse on them as do."

Sibyl seemed to shrink into herself. She looked up at the sky.

"Lord Jesus wouldn't curse a little girl like me, a little girl who
loves Him," she thought; but, all the same, the old man's words
seemed to chill her.

"I'll do my very best," she said, and she went slowly across the
garden. Old Scott called after her:

"I wouldn't disappoint the little lad if I was you, Missy. He's
a-counting of the minutes."

A clock in the stable yard struck five. Old Scott continued to watch
Sibyl as she walked away.

"I could take the apples," he said to himself; "I could if I had a
mind to, but I don't see why the quality shouldn't keep their word,
and I'm due to speak at the Mission Hall this evening. Little Miss
should know afore she makes promises. She's a rare fine little 'un,
though, for all that. I never see a straighter face, eyes that could
look through you. Dear little Missy! Dan thinks a precious sight of
her. I expect somehow she'll take him the apples."

So old Scott went on murmuring to himself, sometimes breaking off to
sing a song, and Sibyl returned to the house.

CHAPTER XIV.

She walked slowly, her eyes fixed on the ground. She was thinking
harder than she had ever thought before in the whole course of her
short life. When she reached the parting of the ways which led in one
direction to the sunny, pretty front entrance, and in the other to the
stables, she paused again to consider.

Miss Winstead was standing in the new schoolroom window. It was a
lovely room, furnished with just as much taste as Sibyl's own bedroom.
Miss Winstead put her head out, and called the child.

"Tea is ready, you had better come in. What are you doing there?"

"Is your head any better?" asked Sibyl, a ghost of a hope stealing
into her voice.

"No, I am sorry to say it is much worse. I am going to my room to lie
down. Nurse will give you your tea."

Sibyl did not make any answer. Miss Winstead, supposing that she was
going into the house, went to her own room. She locked her door, lay
down on her bed, and applied aromatic vinegar to her forehead.

Sibyl turned in the direction of the stables.

"It don't matter about my tea," she said to herself. "Nursie will
think I am with Miss Winstead, and Miss Winstead will