you, as kind as I
can be, but you, on your side, my little girl, must do your part, and
that part is _perfect obedience_. I am very little at home, as you know,
and I cannot constantly direct you and the boys myself, but in my
absence you must obey Mrs. Partridge, who is very kind, and good, and
knows what is right for children. It is unfortunate that your nurse has
had to leave so suddenly, though, if it was _she_ that put it into your
mind to disobey Mrs. Partridge, it is better she has gone. Now you
understand me-- I expect that you will do your best to-day to be good
and obedient, and to give as little trouble as you can."

He turned as if to leave the room--he did not seem to expect an answer.
Words were burning on my lips-- I wanted to ask him if he wished us to
listen to unkind remarks on mother, and unkind reproaches for the
trouble our coming had given, from Mrs. Partridge, who he said was so
good. I wanted to tell him that we _had_ tried to be good, hard as it
was on us to be sent suddenly among strangers-- I wanted to tell him
that I wished to do _everything_ mother had said, that I wished to
please him, and to love him, but when I looked up at his face, and saw
the stern expression it had, I felt it was no use, and I too turned
away.

But just at the door Uncle Geoff stopped and looked back. I suppose the
hard set look of unhappiness on my childish face touched him. He turned,
and stooping down put his arm round me, and kissed me.

"Don't look so miserable, Audrey," he said. "_That_ is not what I wish
at all." I looked up at him again--his face looked ever so much kinder.
I was on the point of saying some nice words, like "Uncle Geoff, I do
want to be good," or something of that sort, which perhaps would have
helped to make him find out that Mrs. Partridge was really not managing
us as he wished, when suddenly I felt the paper--Pierson's letter I
mean--rustle a little under the pressure of his hand. I felt my face
grow red. Suppose he found the letter and took it away? I was so little
accustomed to conceal anything that I felt quite guilty, and in my fear
I drew away a little from his arm. He said nothing, but he must have
been chilled, for he took away his arm, and turned to go, and as he left
the room, I was almost sure that I heard him say in a half whisper,
"Strange child! I am afraid we shall have trouble with her."

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VI.

WE TRY TO BE GOOD.

"Our sister is qui