c scream. But the mistress, with face unchanged and voice
uplifted and unmoved, completes her religious duty.

The whole school is horrified, on rising from their knees, at sight of
the old lady's bleeding head. The mistress wipes her forehead calmly,
and, picking up the shell at her feet, says, "Who threw this?"

There is silence in the room.

"Adele," she continues, "I heard you scream, child; do you know who
threw this?"

Adele gives a quick, inquiring glance at Reuben, whose face is
imperturbable, rallies her courage for a struggle against the will of
the mistress, and then bursts into tears.

Reuben cannot stand this.

"_I_ threw it, Marm," says he, with a great tremor in his voice.

The mistress beckons him to her, and, as he walks thither, motions to a
bench near her, and says gravely,--

"Sit by me, Reuben."

There he keeps till school-hours are over, wondering what shape the
punishment will take. At last, when all are gone, the mistress leads him
into her private closet, and says solemnly,--

"Reuben, this is a crime against God. I forgive you; I hope He may"; and
she bids him kneel beside her, while she prays in a way that makes the
tears start to the eyes of the boy.

Then, home,--she walking by his side, and leading him straight into the
study of the grave Doctor, to whom she unfolds the story, begging him
not to punish the lad, believing that he is penitent. And the meekness
and kindliness of the good woman make a Christian picture for the mind
of Reuben, in sad contrast with the prim austerity of Aunt Eliza,--a
picture that he never loses,--that keeps him meekly obedient for the
rest of the quarter; after which, by the advice of Miss Onthank, both
Phil and Reuben are transferred to the boys' academy upon the Common.

XXII.

Meantime, Adele is making friends in Ashfield and in the parsonage. The
irrepressible buoyancy of her character cannot be kept under even by the
severity of conduct which belongs to the home of the Doctor. If she
yields rigid obedience to all the laws of the household, as she is
taught to do, her vivacity sparkles all the more in those short
intervals of time when the laws are silent. There is something in this
beaming mirth of hers which the Doctor loves, though he struggles
against the love. He shuts his door fast, that the snatches of some
profane song from her little lips (with him all French songs are
profane) may not come in to disturb him; but as her voice rises