umstances
favoured mischief.

For example. He had wisely chosen a broad strip of linen as a means of
fastening her to his loom when he was busy: it made a broad belt round
her waist, and was long enough to allow of her reaching the truckle-bed
and sitting down on it, but not long enough for her to attempt any
dangerous climbing. One bright summer's morning Silas had been more
engrossed than usual in "setting up" a new piece of work, an occasion
on which his scissors were in requisition. These scissors, owing to an
especial warning of Dolly's, had been kept carefully out of Eppie's
reach; but the click of them had had a peculiar attraction for her ear,
and watching the results of that click, she had derived the philosophic
lesson that the same cause would produce the same effect. Silas had
seated himself in his loom, and the noise of weaving had begun; but he
had left his scissors on a ledge which Eppie's arm was long enough to
reach; and now, like a small mouse, watching her opportunity, she stole
quietly from her corner, secured the scissors, and toddled to the bed
again, setting up her back as a mode of concealing the fact. She had a
distinct intention as to the use of the scissors; and having cut the
linen strip in a jagged but effectual manner, in two moments she had
run out at the open door where the sunshine was inviting her, while
poor Silas believed her to be a better child than usual. It was not
until he happened to need his scissors that the terrible fact burst
upon him: Eppie had run out by herself--had perhaps fallen into the
Stone-pit. Silas, shaken by the worst fear that could have befallen
him, rushed out, calling "Eppie!" and ran eagerly about the unenclosed
space, exploring the dry cavities into which she might have fallen, and
then gazing with questioning dread at the smooth red surface of the
water. The cold drops stood on his brow. How long had she been out?
There was one hope--that she had crept through the stile and got into
the fields, where he habitually took her to stroll. But the grass was
high in the meadow, and there was no descrying her, if she were there,
except by a close search that would be a trespass on Mr. Osgood's crop.
Still, that misdemeanour must be committed; and poor Silas, after
peering all round the hedgerows, traversed the grass, beginning with
perturbed vision to see Eppie behind every group of red sorrel, and to
see her moving always farther off as he approached.