nursery, she attempted to palm off
the new canary as Evelyn's original bird. This strange behaviour brought
her to great disgrace. Her only explanation was, "I didn't want Evelyn
to know that Dickie was dead. I think death is so dreadful, and I don't
want her to know anything dreadful." Mrs. Symons and the governess
thought this most inexplicable.

"Etta is a very difficult child," said Mrs. Symons; "she always has been
so unlike the others, and now this dreadful untruth. I always feel an
untruth is very different from anything else. Going into that horrid,
dirty little shop! You must watch her most carefully, Miss Weston, and
let me know if there is any further deceit."

"I never had noticed anything before, Mrs. Symons, but I will be
particularly careful." And Miss Weston took the most elaborate
precautions that there should be no cheating at lessons, which Henrietta
resented keenly, having, like the majority of girls, an extreme horror
of cheating.

CHAPTER II

Soon after the incident of the canary, the three older girls went to
school. When her first home-sickness was passed, Henrietta enjoyed the
life. It was strict, but home had been strict, and there was much more
variety here. She was clever, and took eager delight in her lessons;
dull, stupid Miss Weston had found her beyond her.

She would have liked school even more if her temper had been under
better control. But at thirteen she had settled down to bad temper as a
habit. She did not exactly put her feelings into thoughts, but there was
an impression in her mind that as she had been out of it so much of her
life she should be allowed to be bad-tempered as a consolation. This
brought her into constant conflicts, which made no one so unhappy as
herself.

She had two great interests at school, Miranda Hardcastle and Miss
Arundel. Miranda was the kind of girl whom everybody is always going to
adore, very pretty, very amusing, and with much cordiality of manner.
Henrietta fell a victim at once, and Miranda, who drank in all
adoration, gave Henrietta some good-natured friendship in return.
Henrietta fagged for her, did as many of her lessons as she could,
applauded all her remarks, amply rewarded by Miranda's welcoming smile
and her, "I've been simply pining for you, my child; come and hear me my
French at once, like a seraphim."

This happy state of things continued until unfortunately Henrietta's
temper, over which she had kept an anxious guard