ut you can't see yourself."

"I can. Never mind. Is this true what you have been telling me?"

"Yes, it's quite true. I wish it was a dream, and I might wake up out of
it."

"And you all put this thing at my door?"

"Yes, of course. Dr. Strong said--Dr. Strong has been here twice this
evening--he said it was because of last night."

"_Sometimes we can never give back what we take away._" These few words
came back to Flower now.

"And you all hate me?" she said, after a pause.

"We don't love you, Flower; how could we?"

"You hate me?"

"I don't know. Father wouldn't like us to hate anybody."

"Where's Helen?"

"She's in father's room."

"And Polly?"

"Polly is in bed. She's ill, too, but not in danger, like father. The
doctor says that Polly is not to know about father for at any rate a
day, so please be careful not to mention this to her, Flower."

"No fear!"

"Polly is suffering a good deal, but she's not unhappy, for she doesn't
know about father."

"Is baby very ill, too?"

"No. Nurse says that baby has escaped quite wonderfully. She was
laughing when I saw her last. She has only a little cold."

"I am glad that I gave her to your father myself," said Flower, in a
queer, still voice. "I'm glad of that. Is David anywhere about?"

"No. He's at the farm. He's to sleep there to-night with Bob and Bunny,
for there mustn't be a stir of noise in the house."

"Well, well, I'd have liked to say good-by to David. You're quite sure,
Fly, that you all think it was _I_ made your father ill?"

"Why, of course. You know it was."

"Yes, I know. Good-by, Fly."

"Good-night, you mean. Don't you want something to eat?"

"No. I'm not hungry now. It isn't good-night; it's good-by."

Flower walked slowly down the long, low, dark room, opened the door,
shut it after her, and disappeared.

Fly stood for a moment in an indifferent attitude at the table. She was
relieved that Flower had at last left her, and took no notice of her
words.

Flower went back to her room. Again she shut and locked her door. The
queer mood which had been on her all day, half repentance, half
petulance, had completely changed. It takes a great deal to make some
people repent, but Flower Dalrymple was now indeed and in truth facing
the consequences of her own actions. The words she had said to Fly were
quite true. She had looked at herself. Sometimes that sight is very
terrible. Her fingers trembled, her whole body shook, but she