ou, Phoebe, but it is no less the truth.
How am I to look at you and think that God has finished His work?'

She put up both her hands and motioned me away with almost a face of
horror, but I took no notice. I arranged the flowers and tended the fire,
and then offered her some cooling drink, which she did not refuse, and
then I bade her good-night.

'What!' she exclaimed, 'are you going to leave me like that, and not a
word to soothe me, after making me so unhappy? Think of the long night I
have to go through.'

'Never mind the length of the night, if only you can hear His voice in
the darkness. You wanted to send me away, Phoebe; well, and to-morrow I
shall not come; I shall stay at home and rest myself. You can send me
away, and little harm will happen; but take care you do not send Him
away.' And I left the room.

When I told Miss Locke that I was not coming the next evening she looked
frightened. 'Has my poor Phoebe offended you so badly, then?' she asked
tremulously.

'I am not offended at all,' I replied; 'but Phoebe has need to learn
all sorts of painful lessons. I shall have all the warmer welcome on
Wednesday, after leaving her to herself a little.' But Miss Locke only
shook her head at this.

The next day was so lovely that I promised myself the indulgence of a
long country walk; there was a pretty village about two miles from
Heathfield that I longed to see again. But my little plan was frustrated,
for just as I was starting I heard Tinker bark furiously; a moment
afterwards there was a rush and scuffle, followed by a shriek in a
girlish treble; in another moment I had seized my umbrella and flown to
the door. There was a fight going on between Tinker and a large black
retriever, and a little lady in brown was wandering round them,
helplessly wringing her hands, and crying, 'Oh, Nap! poor Nap!'

I took her for a child the first moment, she was so very small. 'Do not
be frightened, my dear,' I said soothingly, 'I will make Tinker behave
himself.' And a well-aimed blow from my umbrella made him draw off
growling. In another moment I had him by the collar, and by dint of
threats and coaxing contrived to shut him up in the kitchen. He was not
a quarrelsome dog generally, but, as I heard afterwards, Nap was an old
antagonist; they had once fallen out about Peter, and had never been
friends since.

I found the little brown girl sitting in the porch with her arms round
the retriever's neck; she was kissing